I believe in John Watson
by the lost princess in time
Summary: Sherlock is about to fall and John can't watch it happen. He does what he never thought he'd do before and he runs up the stairs to join Sherlock. Sherlock's plan is ruined so he has to make up a new one. John begs Sherlock not to fall but he might do it anyway. John receives a note in his pocket after the incident. It's from Sherlock. Will he read it? The story continues…
1. I believe in John Watson ch:1

Roses are red,

His scarf was blue

If he doesn't turn up soon

I might have to jump, too

~ John Watson

John walked out of the taxi with his phone up to his ear, "Sherlock, are you okay?" John had no idea what was going to happen, what Moriarty had planned for himself and Sherlock from the start.

Sherlock was standing on the edge of St Bart's Hospital and he was ready to fall, "Turn around and walk back the way you came." Sherlock couldn't tell him anything, he knew that John would protest if he did. It'd only hurt Sherlock more.

John couldn't see anything happening _in_ the hospital but then again he didn't realize that something was happening on the _rooftop_. "No, I'm coming in."

Sherlock's voice changed, it slightly choked and tore, "Just. Do as I ask. _Please_." Sherlock has never begged before, not in his life.

John complied with Sherlock's request because he could hear and feel in Sherlock's voice that something was different, "Where?"

Sherlock saw John walk back to where they started, "Stop there." They were getting closer to the grief and pain of John will experience. He might even have to go to therapy. Sherlock didn't want to think about it, it'd only **kill** him more inside than it is already.

John could only spit out his best friends name, "Sherlock." John started to worry but Sherlock wasn't close enough to see the true _depths_ of it on his face.

Sherlock started to shake, he knew it wouldn't be easy but if it's to save John; he'd climb a mountain, "Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."

John wished that he hadn't looked up when he did, "Oh god." His mouth reacted quicker than his head. A little voice acted as a siren in his head:

_Save him John. Don't let him fall._

It was something John didn't wish upon his best friend Sherlock, he couldn't stand feeling so low and his detective standing so high; so high that he was on the edge. John would've ignored the little voice but this time his head was filling with more conclusions than ever. He ran towards the building, ignoring Sherlock's voice on his phone repeating his name.

_John? John? Don't__…__ Please, turn around._

John ran faster than he has ever done in his life. He rushed up towards the rooftop and slammed the door open, "Sherlock!" John noticed there was someone else on the rooftop too; only he wasn't moving and he was dead, and it was _**Moriarty. **_

Sherlock turned around with tears filling his eyes, John was ruining the only way to save him, "John, you can't – you should be down there. _Go_."

John didn't know why Sherlock is doing this. _Why would Sherlock kill himself?_ Maybe Moriarty had planned this from the start. "Sherlock I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on."

Sherlock swallowed a small hard lump in the back of his throat; "Moriarty's dead, as you can see."

John stopped Sherlock but overpowering him with his voice, "Yeah I gathered Sherlock." John sighed, "Let's just go and we'll call Lestrade and tell him what happened."

Sherlock couldn't, even if Moriarty was dead, the shooters aren't and the orders can't be undone, "No John, it's not – it's still not over."

It was like there were a large tear in-between them; it was slowly pulling them apart. Sherlock's voice couldn't stay strong when he had to convince his friend that he killed himself or mainly, the whole world. John was splitting into two and Sherlock just wanted to fade away.

"What do you mean it's not over? Sherlock he's **dead**." John was getting more confused at the second and even more worried. He begged to himself:

_Please don't fall off the edge__…__ Sherlock please__…_

"He may be dead but he never worked alone John. He has three gunmen, coincidentally one of them is on you right now John and unless I jump, you'll – they'll shoot you and I couldn't stop the order; I'm sorry John, I'm so sorry." Tears were falling down Sherlock's slender face. This was _torture_ and that's what Moriarty intended it to be.

_A death in disgrace__…_

"Well then." John walked up to the edge and joined Sherlock, "Since they have a gunman on me, I guess we can do this together. I can't watch you do this alone; it's together or not at all."

Sherlock's eyes widened fully. He has never had a friend let alone a best friend who was willing to fall off the edge of a building with him. _So if someone jumped off a building, would you do it too?_ Every parent asked their children that question and they all said no in the end and that's what amazed Sherlock was when John's face didn't say no, it said _yes_.

Sherlock grabbed a handful of John's coat and wanted to push him back to safety, "John I – I can't let you do this. I won't – let you do this."

John was like a bubble, he was getting blown up and up until he popped, "I can't let you do this Sherlock! For Christ sake! I'd have to be heartless to just walk away from you right now."

Sherlock gave a small smile but they both knew it was completely fake and empty on his face, "I can say the right words and you would walk away."

John thrusted his fist at Sherlock's collar; John grabbed and twisted at it pulling Sherlock close enough that they are touching noses, "Don't you _dare_ say that Sherlock. I will never ever leave you. No matter what you say. Don't – just don't."

Sherlock rested his forehead on John's. He's failing to protect John and that man wears him out, "Caring is not an advantage John. It's not helping you and it's plain obvious that it's – it's not helping me too." Sherlock's voice burned in his throat, it wasn't his normal voice; it was a lonely and hurt tone.

_Sherlock was afraid of it__…_

They were both enjoying the silent moment with their heads together and the feeling of their breath on each other. If Moriarty were alive he'd _enjoy_ the pain that they both are going through. He was a cynical bastard who ruined their world that consisted of Mrs. Hudson, living at 221B Baker Street and what seemed like an eternity of solving murders.

It wasn't much of a silence between them, they could hear words wanting to be said and actions wanting to be made real but they didn't make a move, "John." Sherlock interrupted and put all the words and actions to silence, "It's time for me to jump. I've waited too long. I'm not the type of person to kill myself and you know that and I obviously want to avoid dying at all costs."

John let go of Sherlock and looked him deep in his blue sea eyes, "So, you have a plan then? For Christ sakes, why didn't you tell me that at the beginning then we wouldn't have to argue in the first place!"

Sherlock returned back to what seemed to be his normal state but it was also twisted somehow, "I have to convince you and the world that I'm dead so I cant have any mention of the plan to you but… you know now but I – John, you still have to _lie_."

It was the look that hurt John, almost killed his soul inside. Sherlock wasn't physically begging but in his eyes, he was pleading down on his knees until tears washed down his face to match his voice. John could only stutter out, "Lie about what?"

"Tell." Sherlock paused and regained his voice, "Tell them I am a fake. Tell the newspapers that they were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you; that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." Sherlock struggled saying everyone's names but he pulled through in the end because he wasn't look at them. It made him realize that he wouldn't be able to cope if he had to look at John and say his name one more time. "And tell – tell yourself everyday that it **wasn't your fault**. Promise me that John; everyday."

John could see how much pain Sherlock was going through, hell; he could _feel_ it too. John pulled Sherlock towards him and held Sherlock so close to him that it felt like:

_They could morph together into one__…_

John clutched Sherlock, taking in every scent and pulse of him. He could feel Sherlock's heartbeat against his ear, he could feel Sherlock breathing in and out, and he could smell the beautiful aroma Sherlock is capable of making with his body alone; John was **drunk** with every bit of Sherlock, so drunk even that he couldn't tell that Sherlock was slowly _guiding_ John away from the edge and to the door.

What felt like moments, was like years for John; and when Sherlock let him go, John slowly started to succumb to reality. It was only when John opened his eyes, he wished to god himself that he shouldn't of. Sherlock was standing on the edge, not looking at John because he couldn't bear to see his face.

"Trust _me_ John." Sherlock's voice wavered past like the wind, chilling John's soul.

It was then and always then that Sherlock held out his arms and slowly cascaded off St Bart's Hospital. John could only scream "Sherlock!" but the screaming was fuelling inside him, becoming so _frustrating_ that he wanted to cry out and wanted to demand that Sherlock would not be dead.

John threw himself down the stairs; he didn't have time for stairs, only _his_ Sherlock. Another regret he made when he ran out to see his best friend on the pavement with blood caked all over his face and his eyes like the candles except, there was no life in them; they were cold, dead, not burning. Not once has Sherlock's eyes even been like that, they were always puzzling with new cases, being blown with evidence. Not until he fell, had John felt so alone and _empty_ inside.

People were gathering around Sherlock, police, and bystanders. Sirens were blaring, filling the whole street, but to John they were only a distant sound, so quiet like they were tens of miles away.

John pushed past the people, "Let me come through, please. He's my friend." He could only choke out again helplessly, "He's my friend…"

It was the moment that stopped John's heart and made him feel dizzy, he checked for a pulse on Sherlock's wrist only:

_There wasn't a pulse__…_

John backed away, feeling lightheaded and tingly in every nerve of his body. His brain had shut down and the sane half was fighting with the insane:

_What does it mean to have no pulse again?_

**It means that Sherlock is dead****…**

The ambulance arrived and took Sherlock away as John was still processing his thoughts. Lestrade came whirling down with his blasphemy of a siren but again to John, it sounded like it was miles away.

Lestrade grabbed John's shoulders and shook them, John looked into his face but Greg's voice was muffled, "John? What happened? Are you okay? Where's Sherlock?"

Everything started to come back to John. **Sherlock**, the fall, no… pulse, "I said that to Sherlock. I said 'Are you okay?' He didn't – He didn't even answer my question." Lestrade looked confused at John and wanted to help but his division didn't know how.

_If he even had a division that is__…_

John started to change and go into his famous sarcastic mode, "That son of a bitch didn't – he couldn't, well not anymore he can't, no! You know why Watson? Because you let him fall! You dickhead John Watson, you are such a failure, you can survive getting shot in the arm but can't even save your own best friend." John was turning darker every second, "Too late now, he's dead." He couldn't cope.

_Moriarty sat on a wall,_

_Sherlock Holmes had a great fall, _

_And all Lestrade's horses,_

_And all Mycroft's men, _

_Couldn't put Watson, _

_together again__…_

Lestrade let go of John to give him a moment. John just wanted to curl up into a little ball and slowly fade away. He couldn't do this; John would rather have to get the milk a million times than be asked to trust Sherlock and watch him fall over the edge.

_Sherlock, you're asking too much of me__…_

Lestrade came back over to John and sat with him on the pavement, "John, I need you to tell me what happened."

"Sher – Sherlock. He fe – fell. Lestrade he – he had no – pulse." John was choking again, the lump in his throat started to swell and harden, so no matter how many times you tried to swallow it down:

_It wouldn't go away__…_

"Moriarty is up on the roof, he's dead. Shot himself after he manipulated Sherlock into-." John completely lost it, tears were flowing down his cheeks, and his heart burned and became broken with the grief of Sherlock. He just wanted Sherlock alive and happy.

_Is it too much to ask?_

**I'm sorry John****…**** I truly am.**

Lestrade put his arm around John, "John, I want you to know this. **It wasn't your fault John**. I'm so sorry John." The way he said that brought what Sherlock said back to life.

_It wasn't your fault__…_

_It wasn't your fault__…_

_It wasn't your fault__…_

_It wasn't your fault__…_

_It wasn't your fault__…_

_**It wasn't your fault**__**…**_

_**Promise me that**__**…**_

Never had 4 words made such a mental impact on John. It was like an echo, repeating and repeating and it would never stop, not even when he died. Those words would make an imprint in time; those words said alone could rip the fabric of space.

_No one could escape from them__…_

John didn't refuse Lestrade or his arm; he just let him sit there and watch the colours of the police sirens in the distance. John wished for it to be a dream, he wanted it to be some dream that teaches you how you'd truly feel if you lost someone you cared about.

_But John already knew how'd he feel__…_

It was unfortunate that it wasn't a dream. John would've been relieved if it was; it'd mean he could wake up and tell Sherlock how amazing he is and put up with his stubbornness. He'd enjoy waking up to a new case to solve, a new adventure.

_What would you give up to get Sherlock back?_

**I'd give anything and everything****…**

John gave his statements and explanations to the police and after what almost felt like being in Afghanistan again; John could go back home to 221B.

Mrs. Hudson had already received the news from Lestrade and _thank god for that_ because John didn't have the strength to tell her himself. He knew that if he tried, he'd probably collapse into a puddle of despair and she'd have to clean him up.

John walked up the stairs and it felt depressing that Sherlock wasn't either walking up with him or waiting in the apartment for him. It felt _empty_ without Sherlock. He brought life into the apartment and John never realized that until:

_Sherlock was gone__…_

It was kind of Mrs. Hudson to leave tea and biscuits for John. She always looked out for those boys and put up with them on a huge extent. It made John think of what it be like if Mrs. Hudson wasn't around anymore to help deal with all their shit.

_What would it be like without me around?_

**Maybe the same****…**** or entirely different****…**

John basically collapsed on his chair and stared at Sherlock's. He has always seen that chair be occupied by Sherlock and he never had imagined seeing it empty. John heard a crumple in his pocket but he ignored it until moments later he heard another crumple as he shifted in his chair.

_What's in your pocket John?_

John never recalled having anything in his pocket besides his phone. John pulled out a small folded note, which had his name on top of it in Sherlock's writing.

John Watson

John hands shook hard. He wondered if this was a suicide note or something else all together. He was too curious to leave it alone. He gave into the anticipation and opened it so forcefully; he almost ripped it.

John, I'm sorry.

I couldn't back down from this fall.

This is the only way I could reach you without others knowing. Don't worry; I'm okay. I can't come back at 221B because there are snipers probably watching the apartment. I want you to meet me back at Bart's Hospital at sunset. You'll know it's me because I'll leave a sign for you. I'll be waiting John Watson.

~Sherlock Holmes

_Sunset? Sherlock you bastard__…__ I'm going to kill you._

How is John going to meet Sherlock when Lestrade is still there? But knowing Sherlock, John knew he would have a plan. Could he trust it though? That was the true question to this situation.

John looked at his watch; sunset will be in under an hour.

_How time flies when you're having fun__…_

John grabbed his coat and started to walk out the door. He felt bad for leaving the tea and biscuits that Mrs. Hudson went through all the trouble to putting together but hopefully she will _understand_.

John arrived back at St Bart's and surprisingly, Scotland Yard wasn't there anymore. There were cars parked in front of St Bart's but they weren't police cars or even Lestrade's car so it wasn't of vital importance.

_Or so John thought__…_

John went back up the stairs one by one. He remembered how he felt the last time he was walking up these stairs: Worried, scared, upset and angry. One by one the memories started to flood his head.

**I can't let you do this****…**

John remembered what Sherlock's cold wrist felt like on his fingers. The feeling was still lingering beneath his skin.

**He's my friend****…**

Sherlock couldn't have possibly survived this. His face, his hair was covered in blood and so was the pavement beneath him.

_What if Moriarty was on the roof, alive and well?_

John arrived at the door. He stared at it for a few seconds like he was a shadow of himself. He plucked up the courage to open it. The door wasn't locked and it creaked when he opened it slowly.

_There was no one on the roof__…_

John couldn't see anyone on the roof. He walked around and looked to see any signs but there were none.

_Over the edge maybe?_

The sun was beginning to set. John couldn't see Sherlock or any signs of him so far.

_Maybe it's another trick. Sherlock's good at those__…_

John remembered what Sherlock had said in the note: **'You'll know it's me because I'll leave a sign for you.' **The only problem is; where will John find this sign?

It wasn't until John walked to the edge that he saw the sign Sherlock left him. So the cars were of vital importance. In bold letters there was a word on top of the cars. They equaled to a message to John from Sherlock.

I believe

In

John Watson

~SH

At the moment John read what it said, a familiar voice was behind him, "I guess you got my message then. I said I'd leave a sign."

John didn't know if he wanted to punch, kiss, hug or kill Sherlock. But most of all, Sherlock was okay and that was important.

John turned around to face Sherlock. This had to be a dream, "Sherlock…" John could only gasp out.

"John, I-" Sherlock didn't have time to finish because before you know it, John marched over and punched Sherlock in the face so hard he fell.

All John's anger was out of him finally and he could only get on top of Sherlock and hug him, "I can't believe it." John was crying on Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock's pain from his eye left him and he returned John's hug. He had never felt this kind of affection before. Sure, his mother hugged him when he was a boy but this hug; it was like an I-can't-lose-you-again-not-ever-not-in-my-lifetime-i-don't-wanna-let-go hug. This particular hug was precious and to be honest, Sherlock didn't want to let go either.

Sherlock could finish what he was going to say, "John, I'm sorry." Hearing those words from Sherlock and knowing that he wasn't going to jump after saying them brought a deep sense of relief to John.

John was undoubtedly still angry with Sherlock. He leapt up and crossed his arms, "How could you do something like that? For Christ sakes Sherlock! You had me worried!" John left out the part of him having a mental breakdown; it was embarrassing to him.

Sherlock reached out his hand, "John." But John ignored it; he just walked towards the edge to stare at the sun slowly cascading down the horizon. It had a beautiful vermillion glow and the clouds were bright pink. He didn't know why but it reminded him of Vincent Van Gogh's 'Starry Night' painting. Maybe it was because of the way the clouds swirled with each other, the sun glowing and the early signs of stars.

_It was absolutely beautiful__…_

Sherlock stood up and walked to John. He kept a safe distance because he was scared John was going to knock him another right hook. He reached out his hand again and it rested on John's I-was-shot-below-there shoulder. John didn't push it off or move away from Sherlock, he just let it sit there and linger for many moments.

So many words we being said without their mouths, regrets, doubts, feelings; they were building up over their heads like a raincloud. Sherlock spoke over these words, "John, I can't stay for long."

**I****…**

John felt so shattered inside, it was like he was a mirror and Sherlock would be the one to make him break, "How long will you be gone for?" It was a good question but John didn't know if he actually wanted it to be answered.

**Believe****…**

"Judging by the amount of work of trying to track down Moriarty's acquaintances and tracking every move he's made which will be difficult due to the fact that-" Sherlock wasn't giving a straight answer so John wouldn't let him finish.

**In****…**

"Sherlock! _How long?_" John just wanted a straight answer. It was all he could take.

**John****…**

Sherlock sighed, he told the truth, "I don't know."

**Watson****…**

The air started to become colder in between and around them, the clouds were losing their colour and the sun was fading away, "Sherlock. Will you ever come home?" Again, John didn't know if he wanted the answer or not.

**~SH****…**

"Of course, don't be stupid. I have no intention of leaving you _forever_." Good. Sherlock will come home. Hopefully, he will be home in less than a decade.

John shoved his cold hands into his pockets, "Good." He could see the steam from his breath mix in with the cold air.

"But, It depends on you John; also what you want too." Sherlock could also see the steam from his breath mix in with the cold air. He automatically deduced that it was going to get colder.

_Much colder__…__ If not already from this anticipation haunting the both of them__…_

"What do you mean it also depends on me?" John had an idea but it was too preposterous for further thought.

"It depends on – if you'll – well – ah-" Sherlock was having trouble speaking, his throat was closing with doubt and nerves.

John really wanted to know what he is going to say, "Yes? C'mon Sherlock! Get it out-"

"If you'll wait for me John." Sherlock could breathe again.

_Promise me you will, John Watson__…_

John was straightforward with this answer, "Yes of course I will, I don't know why it was so hard for-"

"No." Sherlock huffed, "You don't understand. We won't see each other or have any type of contact. This is completely undercover. I'm dead; remember? You can't tell anyone I'm alive. You'll be alone for, well I don't know. Mrs. Hudson still thinks I'm dead and it'll be hard for you to act as if I am but-"

John turned around to face Sherlock's deep blue eyes, "It beats you being dead Sherlock. I can do it, trust me."

_Trust me Sherlock, I really can. I'm a soldier; I know how to do it. I also know how to sprain people but that's beside the point__…_

Sherlock has always trusted John, "I already trust you, deeply in the matter. You know, I'd jump off this building everyday if it means that you come home safely."

_Oh Sherlock, you fool__…_

"Whoa there Sherly. You'll have to buy me dinner first." John laughed to try and lighten the mood.

Sherlock laughed with him and they were both relieved when they saw each other's slight-if-not-dysfunctional happiness.

Sherlock gave a small cough to clear his throat, "Promise me John that you wont run off with some blonde haired lady that turns out to be _very good_ with a gun, maybe possibly an assassin and leave me all on my own." He was quite happy with that promise.

"_So, she can be brunette then?"_

"_No."_

"_Red hair?"_

"_Not in the slightest."_

"_Not even if she dye's her hair? Purple? Blue? Or-"_

"_C'mon John! This is getting ridiculous!"_

"Okay, okay. Jeez Sherlock, I was joking." John made a small grin, he liked it when he messed with Sherlock childishly, John returned to the promise and sarcastically grinned, "I promise you Sherlock Holmes, that I'll wait for you. Forever, till the sun goes down and the night sky glows like-"

Sherlock scoffed, "You don't have to be that extensive John. You could just say 'I promise'."

John gripped his stomach, he was laughing hard, "You got to admit, that was pretty funny."

"Actually you sounded like you were selling your soul to me." Sherlock found that funnier.

_Not funny Sherlock__…_

John stopped laughing and glared at Sherlock, "Kill joy."

Sherlock chuckled, "Always…" Not the Severus Snape line from Harry Potter… Sherlock also threw in the voice.

'_Always' with the Severus Snape line! Hah! Get it?_

John put his hand to his face, "Sherlock, you know what happened to Professor Snape in the end?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Yes of course I do; he died. Everyone dies in the end. Even that redheaded boy named, what was it again? Oh, yes Fred! And also that house-elf Dobby, I really liked-"

John growled, "Sherlock!"

_Yeah, shut up Sherlock!_

"His death wasn't that bad John, he did die for love. It also means that now he and I have something in common." Sherlock held his chin.

_Wait? Actually__…__ Don't shut up Sherlock__…__ not ever__…_

John's pupils dilated, "What?" What in the hell? Was really what John wanted to say but he could only put out the word 'what'.

Sherlock found John's baffled face quite amusing, "It was just a thought, anyway; you've promised and that's all I needed."

John shrugged, "I guess this is goodbye then. See you when you get back."

John held out his hand, he was intending for Sherlock to shake it but Sherlock pulled John towards him and hugged him, "I suppose I will."

John became drunk in Sherlock's scent once again. It was hard not to since it flooded his lungs and made him feel dizzy in a good way. John closed his eyes again; he would never take Sherlock for granted. Not again.

_Sherlock's scent alone can send even the sanest person, insane._

Before you know it, Sherlock was gone again but this time, he didn't have to fall off a roof.

John opened his eyes to see nothing but the glistening moon in the deep, night sky, "I promise Sherlock." John whispered, "I'd do anything for you."

_I really would__…_

**The feeling is mutual, John****…**


	2. I'm coming home ch:2

It's been two years,

I know I've been away,

But you promised that you'd wait,

You'd wait all day.

I hope you haven't forgotten,

That promise John,

Because I haven't, I never will.

I hold to my heart everyday,

It's very dear to me,

And always will.

~ Sherlock Holmes

* * *

><p>Two years ago a promise was made between Sherlock and John.<p>

If you'll wait for me John.

Yes, of course I will.

That promise bound together a deep friendship. It was a promise made up of waiting, trusting, protecting and mainly keeping.

Sherlock arrived back out the front of 221B in the heavy night rain. It looked the same as when he left it. The only problem was that there was no light on in his apartment that he could see.

_Guess John mustn't be home__…_

Sherlock remembered that he kept a spare key in his coat. It was very anxious for Sherlock to open the door after 2 years. He had doubts about this whole reuniting with John plan.

_What will he say? What if he's changed? Oh god__…_

He had already gone through the trouble with the reunion with everyone else except Mrs. Hudson and John Watson.

Lestrade had told him that it was going to be okay but Sherlock wasn't quite sure because he slapped Sherlock's butt after and started to laugh. Then there was Mycroft. He assured him on the way back to London that he should expect another punch but it wont be as bad as the last. Of course Mycroft was eating cake as he said it so the sugar might've been messing with his feeble brain.

_Mycroft you prick__…__ That's not reassurance, that's just being a smart ass__…_

Sherlock went inside and closed the door behind him. Nothing seemed to be different, it looked the same, smelled the same. Sherlock figured that he was over thinking a bit.

Mrs. Hudson must've thought it was John because she walked out and started talking without looking properly, "John, I thought you would be out for a little bit longer." Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock but she still muttered on, "Is everything okay? Oh… Sher-" Mrs. Hudson finally realized who it was.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock could only smile and expect the worst to happen.

"The news said – Sherlock. I must be imagining – I'm going-" Mrs. Hudson was flushed and she couldn't think properly.

"I assure you Mrs. Hudson, you're not going crazy. Whatever the news had said about me, it was real but for the minor mistake of me being dead." Sherlock didn't expect Mrs. Hudson to understand. But in the end. _She did_.

"Oh Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson grabbed him in for a hug. She squeezed the living daylights out of Sherlock. He swore that he was seeing stars after about 5 seconds.

Mrs. Hudson let him go, _eventually_, luckily before Sherlock passed out from lack of oxygen. She had tears down her cheeks and _as always_ had questions she wanted answered, "It's been two years Sherlock! Does John know your back? You didn't ruin his night out did you? Where have you been?"

Sherlock put his hands on her shoulders, he gazed deeply into her eyes, "I'll tell you everything later and no I didn't go see John, I don't know where he is to be honest. I'll just wait here until he gets home." Sherlock also added, "Do you know when he will be home?"

Mrs. Hudson looked at her watch, "It's 9:00pm now, and he went out around 2 hours ago. He should be back before 11:00pm. He sometimes goes out Friday nights. One time he came back completely drunk and talked about you." Mrs. Hudson started to cackle quietly.

"Right, well I'll be in my apartment if you need me and we will talk about everything tomorrow. I'm quite tired." Sherlock lied. He gave a small fake yawn to justify his response and went up the stairs to his apartment.

Sherlock opened the door and expected everything to be different in some way. Nothing was. Sherlock's chair was still there, his notes spread on the walls. Sherlock thought that everything was completely the same until he opened the cupboards and fridge; he noticed that all his fingers and blood samples were gone and replaced with actual _food_.

"Oh John. You sure did your fair share of spring cleaning." Sherlock muttered to himself.

_Wait till you see him Sherlock__…_

* * *

><p>It was 10:45pm when John arrived back at his apartment. John didn't feel like getting drunk tonight so he had only a few beers. He didn't remember closing the curtains of the apartment.<p>

John noticed a cup of hot tea sitting at the coffee table. John didn't remember making that or else it would've gone cold and Mrs. Hudson didn't mention anything when he walked up to see her smiling at him and cackling.

_So who could it be? The door was locked and Mrs. Hudson didn't mention of any visitors so__…_

Sherlock stepped out of the dark corner of the apartment, "Hello John." His voice matched the dark mysterious corner; it lingered on John's tongue.

John was stunned. Sherlock was home, "Sher – Sherlock?"

John switched on the lights and Sherlock walked out of the dark corner, "Yes, it's me."

John realized how soaking wet Sherlock was, "Sherlock you're – soaking wet. You'll get sick if you don't change."

Sherlock took off his drenched scarf, it was starting to make his neck cold, "Yes well, Mrs. Hudson didn't help at all, and she just soaked it all up with that strange jumper of hers. Not to mention she might've added some tears to my coat." Sherlock sneezed. He was getting a cold.

John threw his arms up in the air, "See what I mean? How long have you been home?"

"I've been home since 9:00pm." Sherlock grumbled to John.

"And you didn't go get changed? For Christ sakes Sherlock! Doesn't your good health mean anything to you?" John was having a fit.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I wasn't going to come out in my pyjamas and say 'Hey John'. That's just embarrassing."

5 minutes home and Sherlock was already pissing John off, "Let's be realistic Sherlock. Do you even own pyjamas?"

Sherlock growled huskily, "Of course I do, don't be stupid John."

John replied the growl, "Why don't you wear them?"

Sherlock started to get dizzy, he collapsed on his chair, "It – is none of –*cough*** - **your concern. Drink your tea, it's getting cold."

Sherlock looked twisted in his chair, he landed the wrong way, "Sher – Sherlock are you… okay?" John was more than concerned with the stunt that Sherlock pulled.

Sherlock grumbled and pointed to John's tea, "Drink. Now."

John grabbed out his first-aid kit, "Okay, okay but first I'll check your temperature, you seem to be getting worse pretty quickly." John kneeled in front of Sherlock and put a thermometer in Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock had the sudden urge to either crush it in-between his teeth or spit it out. _He did neither._

Sherlock let the thermometer slide from his tongue when John pulled it out, "38.9°C and getting higher." John sighed, "Sherlock, you really are an idiot sometimes."

John went and got a blanket to wrap around Sherlock, he knelt down again and softly placed it around him. John could see Sherlock's deep blue eyes watching him carefully. He really missed Sherlock. John leant in and hugged Sherlock after what seemed like an eternity.

_It's only been two years John._

John let go and cleared his throat, he didn't want to lose his sanity just yet from Sherlock's scent, "You need to go to bed and get some rest. Don't argue Sherlock, the quicker you get better, the quicker you can go back to being a detective."

Sherlock grumbled but there was nothing he could do. John did have a valid point but we wont say that he was completely right, _not yet_ anyway…

Sherlock got up carefully and started shuffling towards his room, "John." Sherlock whipped back around to John, he remembered about his missing fingers and blood samples, "What happened to my blood samples and fingers that used to be in the fridge?"

John sighed and pressed his fingers to his temple, "They're at the lab with Molly in safe care, I couldn't look after them and to be honest, I got sick of having blood and fingers everywhere." John pointed his finger at Sherlock; it followed with a fair warning, "Don't bring them back home. This place is finally clean and I want to see it through. You can run off to the lab to _experiment_ but not here. Are we clear?"

Sherlock muttered, "Crystal." Of course John knew he was lying, you can't stop Sherlock from anything.

_Sherlock had never wanted anything more when he was told that he couldn't have it__…_

John softened his tone and dropped his finger, "Goodnight Sherlock. Oh! Don't forget your pyjamas for Christ sake!"

Sherlock shuffled away and replied, "Goodnight John." Of course he won't forget his pyjamas. The actual problem is if he'll wear them.

* * *

><p>The morning arrived with a thump from Sherlock's room. John thought 'that can't be good'.<p>

John got up and grumbled towards Sherlock's door, he expected Sherlock to have dropped something or started an experiment.

_If he had the chance to guess, he'd never guess what actually happened__…_

John wiped his eyes; he was too tired for this, "Sherlock, it's 6:00am, what are you – Sherlock!"

Sherlock had managed to get wrapped up in his sheets and fall out of bed, "John." Sherlock could only yelp out like a puppy that had lost his owner.

John just stared and stared and continued to stare until he burst out into a fit of giggles. He wanted to take a photo and send it to Lestrade.

"John… Stop laughing. This isn't even remotely funny. You're being immature… John." Sherlock was completely paralyzed in between his sheets.

_Good job Sherlock you clumsy nut! Want a medal?_

John started to tear up, he had never seen Sherlock in such an awkward position, "Yeah, okay just – *giggles* - give me a minute." John walks over and helps Sherlock back on his bed.

Sherlock looks like an absolute mess, his hair is pointing in directions John couldn't think was possible and he was paler than the colour white, "Thank you – *sneezes* - I feel a bit not good."

John puts the back of his hand to Sherlock's forehead, it felt like Sherlock's forehead was nearly as hot as a stove, "_Crap_. You're still sick; your temperature has risen by a mile. You can't go out today."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "John, I am fine." Sherlock got up from his bed and started to walk away, "See? I'm perfectly capable of walking -"

Sherlock was getting dizzy and before he knew it, he had clenched onto his bedroom door but still managed to slide onto his knees.

John pouted at him, "Care to repeat that? I couldn't hear from the sound of you falling again…"

Sherlock growled, "Shut up John. I don't want to stay here all day; _I'll get bored_.

John walked over and hoisted Sherlock up, he draped Sherlock's arm over his non-bad, non-bullet-wound, _normal_ shoulder, "No you won't. You have books and other things to spend doing for the day. How about your violin?" John guided Sherlock to the kitchen.

Sherlock chocked, coughed and struggled to get his reply out, "No, I have no time for books and I spend enough time on my violin anyway."

John helped Sherlock into the chair but Sherlock slumped right down. John decided to leave him, he knew if Sherlock were bothered with the way he sat, he'd fix it himself.

"What do you want? There's food in the cupboard and fridge now. No thanks to you Sherlock." John didn't know if he was referring to Sherlock always having his experiments take up the room or Sherlock falling.

By the tone of John's voice, Sherlock didn't know either but by the way John thought about it and looked at him with a stern face, Sherlock could clearly see that even if his face was stern, John's eyes were pleading for him to never do that again.

_His eyes were the saddest part of him__…_

Sherlock's gut twisted and he felt guilty, he didn't have an appetite anymore but he didn't really have one to start with, "I'm not hungry." Sherlock hid his face away so he wouldn't have to look at John's eyes, "If you want me to explain myself, I will."

John slammed the cupboard doors, "No. You don't have to explain anything to me. It was two years ago. I'm _fine_. Really Sherlock, let's just worry about making you better."

Sherlock was craving to prove John wrong; he wanted to show John how he isn't fine, how he isn't coping and those two years ago were not a thing of the past, when Sherlock came home, the past followed.

Sherlock just shrugged it off, he didn't want to play John's little game and John didn't want to play Sherlock's. Of course, John and Sherlock were playing two different games.

_Can you guess who's game is denial and who's game isn't?_

John enjoyed the silence but he felt intimidated by the words that weren't being spoken, the ones he knew were being said, but with no sound. They were just floating in the space between them; and the words would continue to float until either the doctor or detective caught the words and used them up.

_Neither of them did__…__ They were scared of what might happen if they did__…_

The kettle started to boil; its steam blew away those words, they became unattainable to John and Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson came through the door to check on the boys, "Morning you two."

John felt as if his soul was being saved from conviction, "Morning Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson saw Sherlock rugged up like a burrito and shivering like all hell, "Is everybody okay? What happened to Sherlock?"

John pressed his hand to his forehead, "I'm fine but Sherlock is sick. He stood around in his wet clothes for nearly two hours last night! I found him soaking wet in that corner." John pointed to the corner where Sherlock appeared out of the dark like a shadow.

_He still remembers how his heart skipped a beat when he heard his voice after two years. _

Sherlock growled, "I already told you John - *sneeze* - I wasn't going to-"

John sighed, "Yeah I know, stand around in your pyjamas and greet me, it would be _embarrassing_."

Sherlock crossed his arms and let the blanket fall around his hips, "I don't expect you to understand John."

Mrs. Hudson was trying to stop the boys from fighting, "Boys… Sherlock… John." They ignored her.

"Good! Because I don't understand! Sher – you know what? I'm done. If you want -" John started to mumble, "I'll be in my room." John stormed off and slammed his bedroom door.

Mrs. Hudson flinched at the sound, "Oh dear." Mrs. Hudson turned to Sherlock, "Sherlock dear, you really shouldn't say those things."

Sherlock replied in a raspy tone, "John is just being – *cough* – _dramatic_. He wont be mad for long. He's mad about nothing anyway."

Mrs. Hudson sighed; she figured that Sherlock had no idea, "Sherlock, John worries about you. You are a smart man but clearly not smart enough to see how much he cares for you. You were gone for _two years _dear, and you didn't guess that it would be hard for him?"

Sherlock never thought of it in that way. It wasn't because he didn't understand, it was because he never thought that anyone would care about him as a best friend; but he already saw it, two years ago on the roof before and after he fell. He saw the emotion in John's eyes; he saw how much John cared.

_And Sherlock didn't want to hurt John__…_

"Go apologize Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson crossed her arms as Sherlock unfolded his.

"It wasn't my fault. Besides, people assume that mistakes can be fixed with one word. Murders don't get shown mercy because they say sorry after killing someone." Sherlock grew stubborn; he was even more annoying with a cold.

Mrs. Hudson gave some advice, "Apologizing does not mean that you were wrong and the other person was right. It shows that you value your relationship more than your ego." She flicked her head in John's direction as if she was implying that he should go to John.

Sherlock grumbled, "Fine." He gave into what Mrs. Hudson said.

Sherlock struggled to get to John's room and had the occasional tumble or two but he got there in the end.

_I think that's what really mattered in the end__…_

Sherlock didn't knock; he just opened the door, "John?"

John was sitting on his bed and reading a book. He didn't look at Sherlock, he just continued to read; or pretend to anyway, "Come in, although you were meant to knock."

Sherlock stumbled to John's bed, "I want to – *sneeze* – apologize to you. I was wrong – *cough* –"

John smirked, "Don't hurt yourself Sherly." John cleared his throat he wanted to sound strong, "I'm fine, I don't want your apology, and I'm okay. Trust me Sherlock." John turned to face Sherlock and saw Sherlock's blue eyes right on his.

Sherlock looked deeply at John. Somehow, John's eyes looking straight into his made him feel better already, "I always have." Sherlock saw through the veil of John's lies.

_John really wasn't okay__…_

Sherlock left John to be alone in his room, to continue pretending to read his book.

* * *

><p>While Sherlock was with Mrs. Hudson getting treated and fed and explaining himself to her, John was quietly thinking of Sherlock had said to him. He thought of how he is rejecting Sherlock's apologies and how it really wasn't Sherlock's fault but,<p>

_After all those years, he missed Sherlock too damn much__…_

John knew it was his fault for promising; it wasn't as if he regretted it, of course not. But he just wanted Sherlock to come home sooner.

_He started to fear himself because he almost gave up__…_

John walked out of his room and into the lounge room; he wanted to see if Sherlock was bored yet. Sure enough, he was.

"John. I'm bored." Sherlock groaned deep in his throat.

John walked into his room and came back out with a board game.

"What's that?" Sherlock scrunched his nose at the cardboard box.

John smiled, "Well, since you can't go out on a case, I thought I'd bring a case to you. It's Cluedo." John loved playing this board game; he used to play it with his sister.

"Cluedo?" Sherlock had never played the game before.

"Yeah. Haven't you ever played it before? Like with Mycroft or friends?" John's voice slowly trailed off when he got to Mycroft and friends part.

Sherlock smirked, "Mycroft would never play a board game with me, he found it useless and a waste of time. John, you and I both know about me and 'friends' statement. I only have one."

John's heart warmed and froze at Sherlock's comment. He felt bad for Sherlock never having friends but he was also glad that he was considered as one, "Well, now you can finally play a board game."

Sherlock smiled, he was grateful for John's kindness and he had a deep amount of admiration for it.

* * *

><p>John explained the rules and they started to enjoy the game until Sherlock started to make outrageous assumptions.<p>

"Could it be the victim himself with the rope in the library?"

John sighed, "No Sherlock."

"It's the only explanation and it would make more sense if it was." Sherlock started to get puzzled.

"Sherlock, guess again." John groaned again.

John eventually won. He would've thought Sherlock would've figured out from all the deductions he made.

Sherlock gave up, "This game is impossible! How could it be Miss Scarlet with the gun in the study? All the signs and evidence are obviously pointing towards Professor Plum in the billiard room. I mean, look at the scratches on the board! These marks could only be left by the candlestick, not the gun."

John rubbed his temple, he tried to push his impatience down, "Do you want to play a different game?"

Of course this wasn't the best of ideas John had thought up…

The day passed by quickly when they tried every game they had and surprisingly, they had a lot of them, from Guess Who to Connect Four. Mrs. Hudson mainly contributed the board games as well.

* * *

><p>"<em>Are you blonde?"<em>

"_Yes."_

"_Are you a female?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you David?"_

"_Damnit Sherlock!"_

* * *

><p>"<em>Your turn."<em>

"_I'll go__…__ Here!"_

"_You blocked me off!"_

"_That's what you get Sherlock!"_

"_What am I meant to do now?"_

"_Keep going!"_

"_I give up. You win."_

"_Sherlock you cant just give up."_

"_Why not? If I went in the second row, you would've won in two turns and in five in the sixth row."_

"_Sherlock, the whole point is to try. It doesn't matter if you lose." _

* * *

><p>They played so many board games that they both almost forgot about the whole world, it felt like it was just them for the whole day and the outside world wasn't of importance.<p>

_It wasn't until John's brain started to piece problems back together again__…_

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock were sharing casual jokes at the time and they both seemed happy on the outside, it was really the inside, which was being eaten alive but the outside.<p>

"I heard you solved a case while I was gone John." Sherlock was both intrigued by the case but impressed that John could solve it.

"Did Lestrade tell you that?" John felt a bit embarrassed.

"Yes. It doesn't matter. Tell me about the case." Sherlock was feeling much better and he leaped to the end of his chair and he looked like a five year-old enjoying a bedtime story.

"Well." John cleared his throat, "A 35 year-old male was killed in his office. He had a video camera put outside of his office for security reasons and there were 4 suspects, his wife, the housekeeper, the trader and the jeweler. The man was hit from behind with a blunt object, which turned out to be an ashtray that was on the coffee table, but it had a cigarette butt in it, so that helped us figure out the timing of the murder."

Sherlock was enjoying the story so far, "Interesting." He leaned swiftly back in his chair, "Do go on."

John continued, "The jeweler never saw the man that day, the housekeeper didn't either and the trader also claimed that he didn't see the man that day either. We had pictures of the recording tape and at first Lestrade thought it was the housekeeper because she stole money from the man and she claimed that she never entered his office but we have photos of her doing so."

"She didn't know about the camera?" Sherlock was getting more and more interested.

_Better than Cluedo__…_

"No. Only the victim and his wife did. His wife also found his body. It turns out the housekeeper didn't kill him and only wanted his money from his wallet, the jeweler was telling the truth and he didn't see the victim at all that day and it was the trader who-"

Sherlock finished John's sentence, "Killed him. Well done John, I'm impressed. Did you have any help since I wasn't there?"

John smiled, "I did actually." John mumbled under his breath so Sherlock couldn't hear, "It was you actually."

John remembers how he had learnt a lot from Sherlock before he left for two years. He remembers working on the case and having a little voice in his head guiding him; he mainly kept it to himself because it was Sherlock's voice, the whole time till the end.

Sherlock asked one more question, "Why did you only do one case when I was gone? There must've been plenty more."

John walked to the kitchen to make tea, "It wasn't the same without – well you know."

_Not the same without you Sherlock__…_

Sherlock got up from his chair and slowly trailed his way towards John, it was getting dark outside and it made him look like a ghost with his blanket, "It's okay John, you can say it."

John accidentally swiped his cup off the counter and it smashed on the floor, "No it's not! It is not okay!" John sternly stared Sherlock down.

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, he could see the cracks in John's face, and his outside was finally showing his inside, the eaten alive part, "John I'm so sorry. I didn't -"

John huskily growled, "Stop apologizing! I don't need your god damn stupid apologies for Christ sake!" John started to break, "I'm… fine… I'm – I – am… fine."

Sherlock started to show his outside, which was drowned in sorrows and guilt, "Why wont you let me apologize? I know it was hard for you-"

John's temper grew back, "Hard?" He scoffed, "You don't know. Two years! I waited for two years! I almost gave up on you Sherlock! I was so scared of the part of me that did and I had to lie to myself everyday, every damn day Sherlock so the rest of me wouldn't! You want to know why I gave up on that case? Because you weren't there! You want to know who helped me? You did! I had your little voice in my head helping me with the case, it drove me mad!"

Sherlock's body felt frozen from John's confessions, "John… I…"

John cut him off, "I gave a damn about you Sherlock! I missed you! So damn much! No matter how many times I asked in my head for you to return, you never did! I didn't want to give up on you… I couldn't bear to let myself give up on you… I knew you would come home… Every day I waited, every day I kept that promise; every day I did what you told me to do! I told myself that I wasn't my fault!"

Sherlock wanted to know why, "If it caused you all this – trouble then… why John? Why not stop waiting and move on?"

John shook his head and grabbed Sherlock's blanket, "Don't you see?" John painfully laughed, "C'mon Sherlock, deduce me. Tell me why I would, because sometimes I know and then other times I don't."

Sherlock did what John wanted, he looked at his face and eyes and deduced every detail from him but he only wanted one, after a few moments, he finally found it, "You'd wait for me because not only do you care about me in a large way but…"

John's eyes dilated and his heart stated to speed up, Sherlock could see it, "Your heart, beating fast, your eyes dilating, you're nervous John. Can I tell you why?"

John closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat but, it would go away, "Go on." John opened his eyes and glared at Sherlock, "_I dare you_."

Sherlock frowned, "Because you – John, you do not only care but you… love me…"

John let go of Sherlock's blanket, "Well done Sherlock. I would give you a prize but sadly, I don't have one for you."

John started to walk away from Sherlock but he was immediately pulled back, "John. I have to tell you something."

John didn't look in Sherlock's direction; he couldn't, not after what Sherlock had just admitted for him, "What is it?"

Sherlock started to also grow a deep lump in his throat, "The feeling is _mutual _John."

John faced Sherlock with disbelief, "What? The feeling is what?"

Sherlock smiled at John's shocked face; he leaned in closely and was centimeters from touching John's lips. He wrote the word on John's lips for him with his own, "Mutual."

Sherlock sealed the gap between them; he never thought in a million years that he would end up kissing John Watson.

_And liking it__…_

Even if Mycroft had told him as a little boy that this is what would happen to him, he would never believe it. It was mainly because Sherlock wanted to be a pirate.

John's breath was hot on Sherlock's. They let out all their frustration out on each other and the kiss itself solved all the unanswered questions and revealed all the unsaid words.

John pulled back from Sherlock, "How long have you had this mutual feeling?" John's lips were red from the kiss.

Sherlock pushed his index finger softly to John's red lips, "Before you even thought it would be."

Sherlock leaned in again and wrote again on John's lips with his own, "I did say that I was dying for love, that should've been a clear message."

Sherlock closed the gap between them again.


	3. Bobbie Redd's Swansong ch:3

John thought it would be a peaceful week after Sherlock had just suffered his head cold from the rain. It was the exact opposite. It all turned to madness after Sherlock received a text from Lestrade.

_New case boys, Radio presenter died in middle of being on air. 5 suspects, 1 couldn't be identified._

_Sent the file over to you_

_~ Lestrade_

Sherlock bounced up from his chair, "New case Watson. Radio presenter died, 5 suspects but 1 are missing and can't be identified. _Interesting_."

John pulled out his notebook and pen, "Right, guess we should get over to the crime scene then." Before John could finish his sentence, Sherlock was already out the door.

John grumbled and ran out after him. New cases always got him excited. The concerning thing for John was that he didn't want Sherlock to get another cold. John grabbed Sherlock's scarf, which Sherlock had surprisingly forgotten, or maybe it was a test? John took it anyway; he had no time for deducing the _great Sherlock Holmes_.

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock arrived at the Broadcasting House. Police cars and ambulances blocked off the road and parked wherever they pleased. The taxi came to a halt and John hopped out with Sherlock. John talked to the police to find out the exact situation going on, Sherlock ignored everything and marched inside. Knowing John, he too followed like a shadow.<p>

Many floors were to be of expected but if John was being honest, _It took ages_ to get to the crime scene. John started wondering what it would be and who the missing suspect was.

They arrived at the right floor after moments of anticipation and excitement. Lestrade was standing in front of the elevator, just waiting for the two to turn up.

He had a smug look on his face; it was disguised with an early morning smile, "Hello you two. We actually have something for you to look at, well rather listen to. It's the radio broadcast."

Sherlock turned to John and smiled, "Well. This should be fun." He gave a slight wink.

Lestrade looked at the two funny but he rolled his eyes and walked away. He didn't ask, nor did he want to know.

John and Sherlock followed Lestrade to the studio where both of them could clearly see the corpse through the glass window.

Lestrade told one of the forensics to play the recording of the broadcast, it boomed through the speakers in the corners of the walls.

* * *

><p><strong>Radio Broadcast:<strong>

**Bobbie Redd:** Welcome everybody! Today we have a special guest! It's the drop dead gorgeous _Monica Jane_!

**Monica Jane:** Aw, thanks Bobby. It's terrific to be here! I brought you something; they are amazingly delicious.

***Peeep-Peeep-Peeep***** **

**Bobbie Redd: **Seems like there's a fax coming in! Talk about fast hey Monica!

**Monica Jane: **Yes it was quite fast…

**Bobbie Redd: **First request this morning is… Hold on… It's from the Angel O' Death? Erm – I'll Be The Death Of You? Whoa sounds like someone wants to turn Bobbie Redd into _Bobbie Dead._

**Monica Jane: **Don't go dying on me Bobbie! I wont be able to handle it!

**Bobbie Redd: **Well if I am going to sign off for the last time, how about one of your delicious offerings first.

**Monica Jane: **Hee hee.

***Munch, munch****... ****Gulp****…*******

**Bobbie Redd: **Mm. That hit the spot. You were right Monica! They are delicious.

**Monica Jane: **I told you-

**Bobbie Redd: **Ug – urgh –

***Bang, Crash, Wallop*******

**Monica Jane: **Bobbie? What's going on?

**Mike Francis: **Bobbie? Are you okay? Erm – go to an ad break quickly!

***Di-Di-Da-Dah, Ra-di-o, Swoooon*******

**Ad: **The Grand Farrods sale is on today! No better deal here! 50% off from 4-6pm! Come down to Daysbridge today!

* * *

><p>Lestrade pressed a button and everything went silent, "That's what we managed to get. The rest is up to you Sherlock."<p>

Sherlock scrunched up his face, "Interesting." He walked out to the next room where the body was.

John muttered a 'sorry' and rolled his eyes but followed Sherlock anyway.

Sherlock called out to Lestrade, "How long did it take for the Ambulance to get here?"

Lestrade walked out to the doorway and stood there, "Well, it took around 20 minutes since rush hour. Poor bloke would've died before then."

Lestrade flipped through a file that he was carrying along with his coffee, "Traces of neurotoxin was found in his bloodstream."

John stared at the broken teacup on the ground, he knew that this was suspicious but he couldn't put his finger on it, "Was there neurotoxin in what he ate before he collapsed?"

Lestrade turned the page on the file and frowned, "No there wasn't but it was in the-"

Sherlock cut him off, "Tea."

Lestrade bit his lip, "The problem is that we went through Monica's statements and she said that Bobby actually never touched his tea." Lestrade pointed with his coffee cup, "She also said that his wig didn't fall off either. She didn't even know that he had a wig until she asked if 'someone had shaved his head'. Strange isn't it?"

Sherlock crouched towards the body and rolled his eyes, "Who brought him the tea?" Sherlock noticed the wig near Bobbie's head on the floor; it looked like the head of a mop.

Lestrade paused for a moments and sighed, "We don't actually know. The suspect is missing."

_A missing suspect? Oh boy__…_

John widened his eyes, "Really? The tea lady is missing?"

Lestrade threw his empty coffee cup in the bin, "Yeah. There hasn't been a trace or a lead on her."

John turned towards Sherlock, "What do you think Sherlock? Tea lady killer or not?"

Sherlock pulled out a yellow handkerchief from Bobbie's pocket, "Not. Look at this Handkerchief John. It says: _Well? Surprised?_" Sherlock examined it closer, "Must be in Bobbie's writing."

John clicked his tongue; he finally found the purpose of the broken teacup, "So Monica said that he never touched his tea yet there is broken teacup."

Sherlock looked at John and saw the wheels turning behind his skull, "There's a discrepancy. Broken teacup, Wig on floor but never actually came off when he fell."

Lestrade dropped open his mouth, "She could be lying. She was closest to the victim at the time. You can't seriously trust her."

John smirked, "Why lie? She could've said that he touched his tea and the wig indeed did fall off then it could've been a clear blame on the tea lady. In the end she didn't lie, she didn't do it."

John clicked his fingers towards Lestrade, "Bring up the audio for Bobbie collapsing."

They heard it again, the sounds of Bobbie collapsing but there was something in this scene that didn't make sense, "What did you just hear when Bobbie collapsed?"

Sherlock was the first to respond, "The sound of Bobbie collapsing."

John smiled and turned towards Lestrade, "What else?"

Lestrade shrugged, "Nothing else."

John was getting into this case far more than he should've, "Exactly. The problem with the scene and the audio is that, _you never hear a teacup smashing_."

Sherlock hopped up from the ground and bounced towards John, "John Watson, you are a brilliant man." Sherlock cupped John's cheeks and kissed him softly on the lips, "So brilliant. You are so right."

Lestrade's mouth dropped further to his knees, "I guess I owe Anderson 5 quid." He cleared his throat, "So what do we make of this crime then?"

Sherlock pointed towards the fax machine where the note had been transmitted during the radio show, "Get a trace on where the note had come from and it might be able to give some evidence."

Lestrade nodded and he yelled out behind him where Anderson and Donovan were walking in, "Hey Anderson! I owe you 5 quid!"

Anderson looked confused and then started to laugh, "Great. I told you Lestrade, but you didn't listen."

Sherlock frowned and John noticed but cleared it up for him, He whispered closely in Sherlock's ear, "They bet on when we would get together or well, be in a relationship."

Donovan snorted, "Actually it was when you'd finally confess your feelings towards that freak!"

John clenched his fist and went to punch Donovan but Sherlock grabbed his wrist before he could take the first step, "John. It's okay."

John grabbed his wrist back and scrunched up his nose, "No it's not! You know what I had to hear after you were gone? Freak this; freak that. I'm sick of hearing the word freak!" He snapped towards Donovan, "Use that word one more time and I will personally make sure that you wont be able to say **another. single. word.**"

Everyone in that room stopped quiet, there were also people outside the room who too, fell dead silent, John started to back away from Sherlock and towards the door, "I'm sorry Sherlock, but you're not a freak."

John pushed himself out of the door and eventually out of the building. He hailed a cab and took his way home to 221B.

Sherlock gave a crescent smile and looked at the clock on the wall, "I'm sorry about John. It's getting late. Message when you get something."

Sherlock walked hastily out the door but stopped to look at Donovan, "Who said he confessed first? Maybe Anderson owes Lestrade?" Sherlock left with Lestrade calling out and asking 'if that was the case' because then Anderson really did _owe Lestrade 5 quid_.

Donovan wished him a 'goodbye' but she did not say _freak_ for the fear that John would really make sure that she wouldn't be able to speak again.

_John was actually quite serious__…_

Sherlock left and went back to 221B not long after John. The air cleared his head even though it was pulsing with thoughts every single second.

* * *

><p>Sherlock arrived back at 221B with some takeaway. He spotted John sitting on his chair and sipping tea.<p>

"I didn't know what you wanted so I got Chinese." Sherlock shrugged softly and smiled at John.

John rubbed his temple and stood up to apologize, "Look. Sherlock. I guess I should – apologize to – well everyone I suppose."

Sherlock walked over to John and rested his head on John's good shoulder, "Not relevant. Even if you were being melodramatic, you were right."

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist; he chuckled slightly in Sherlock's hair, "Thanks Sherlock. I just wanted to stick up for you, that's all."

Sherlock pulled his head away and looked deeply into John's eyes, "Hungry?"

John breathed into Sherlock's closed mouth, "Starving."

* * *

><p>Sherlock and John sat on the couch and wrapped their legs between each other while John rested his head on Sherlock's chest.<p>

"Open." Sherlock commanded.

John did what he was told and Sherlock shoved some Chinese takeaway into John's mouth. John licked his lips and growled deeply in the back of his throat, it earned a kiss on his head from Sherlock.

"This was a good idea." John set his food down and snuggled into Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock sat his food down and responded, "Getting the food or letting you snuggle into me?"

John breathed in the smell of Sherlock; he would never be able to get enough of his scent alone, "Both. Both. Both. Both is good."

Sherlock sprawled his arms around John's back, he tucked him in closer and John became a safety blanket for Sherlock.

Sherlock was slowly dazing off towards sleep, "John?"

John responded slowly which also showed that he was following the path of Sherlock; it had been a long day, "Mm?"

Sherlock closed his eyes, "I don't want you to move. Stay here."

John grumbled into Sherlock's shirt, "I don't want to move either." He laughed and looked up at Sherlock, "You're too comfy for your own good."

Sherlock traced circles on John's back and John murmured back, "John you make me feel safe." He changed his tone to playful, "You're my safety blanket."

John chuckled softly into Sherlock and it warmed his heart and then it infected his body. John was a disease that Sherlock couldn't get out of his head and he enjoyed it.

John held Sherlock tighter, "You make me feel safe too. Whenever I'm around, I will always try to make you feel safe."

Sherlock smiled and asked, "How long will you be around?"

John lifted his head and fell deep and silent into Sherlock's eyes, "Forever."

Sherlock stopped tracing circles into John's back, he just held John, "John, I-"

John pressed his index finger to Sherlock's lips, "Shh. I know Sherlock." John snuggled quietly back into Sherlock's chest and murmured back, "I do too."

_I love you__…__ To the end of the universe and back__…_

They both listened to each other's breathing and felt their hearts pounding with life. It soothed them softly and helped guide the tired Detective and Doctor to sleep.

* * *

><p>Sherlock woke up without John on him but with a replacement. It was a heavy blanket that must've belonged to John. He could tell because of the smell, the pattern and also the fact that he has never seen this thing in his life.<p>

"Morning." John came out of the bathroom with a single towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was wet and disheveled but he had a rosy colour on his cheeks.

Sherlock sat up and looked away with a bright red face and bit his lip. John's tan and bear chest made him glow in the morning sunlight.

John walked up to Sherlock and cupped his hands around Sherlock's cheeks, "Tea?"

God. John's breath was so minty that Sherlock could _taste_ it. Sherlock's mind was blank but there was a tiny voice in his head yelling at him: 'C'mon Sherlock!' 'Say something!" 'Don't look at John's strong muscles.' 'Think of the case!' 'Control, control, control!'

Sherlock could only stumble out, "Tea would be great."

As John walked away, Sherlock sighed in his lungs. He needed control today and with the case having a missing witness; he couldn't have _any distractions_.

John called out from the kitchen, "I also checked your phone for you before I had a shower. You had a text from Lestrade and they have found the missing witness."

Sherlock threw off the blanket and stumbled towards John, "Where is she?"

John turned around and sighed into his hand, "Sherlock. You are not going to like this."

Sherlock became two feet away from John, "Tell me anyway."

John grabbed a cup, "How about tea first and then I'll tell you?"

Sherlock shoved a fistful of John's towel, "Tell me or this comes off."

John laughed, "You can pull that towel off all you want but it's not just going to affect me." John sat the cup back down.

John leaned in closer and brushed Sherlock's lips with his words, "It's also going to affect you."

Sherlock smirked, "Also maybe Mrs. Hudson, if she walked in."

John grabbed Sherlock's wrist, "Exactly. So let go hm? Sherlock Holmes, you are always trying to find a way for me to get out of my clothes."

Sherlock removed his hand as John let go but he wasn't finished there, "Maybe I'll let your bad shoulder have a go?"

John glared at Sherlock, "You wouldn't dare."

Sherlock glared back, "Tell me and I wont have to."

John leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms; "Your phone was two feet away from you only moments ago so you can check that instead."

Sherlock remembered seeing his phone next to him when he was on the couch, "Why do you tease me John?"

John laughed, "It's the soldier in me. I've been trained not to let information go so easily."

Sherlock walked away and chuckled, "May get into the wrong hands."

Sherlock held his phone in his hand and checked the message that Lestrade had sent him. Sherlock didn't expect this:

_Tea lady found._

_Identified by the name of Alice Baker._

_She sent the fax in the next room._

_She is also dead, suspected suicide._

_Also found traces of the poison with her._

_Suspected as Bobbie's killer._

John handed Sherlock a cup of tea, "Do you think that Alice is Bobbie's killer?"

Sherlock grinned with cynicism, "No. But we have to check it out first to confirm my theory."

John laughed into his tea, "That's the Sherlock I know."

* * *

><p>John and Sherlock went back to the crime scene to check out the suspected suicide of Alice Baker. Lestrade was standing around in the kitchen a few doors away, enjoying a cup of coffee and a doughnut.<p>

"Boys, welcome. Now, before we discuss the matters of Alice Baker, I have a very important question regarding you two." Lestrade leaned sternly against the counter.

John and Sherlock exchanged confused looks but John was the one to respond, "Sure Greg, ask away."

Lestrade sighed deeply and crossed his arms, "Does Anderson owe me 5 quid?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "There is a dead girl that needs investigating and you're worried about 5 quid?"

Lestrade shrugged the question off, "5 quid couldn't hurt."

John came closer to Lestrade but still gave some distance, "Why does it matter? Besides, it all depends on what you bet on _exactly_."

Sherlock hated Anderson so I guess making him pay couldn't hurt. Sherlock pointed out, "Make Anderson cough up. It would do him good with all the cheating he's been successfully getting away with."

Lestrade choked on his coffee at the mere thought, but then he looked around the idea and hypnotized himself to think that it was fair, "Good point Sherlock. It may not pay off for every affair but still, good point."

John puffed his cheeks full of air and released slowly, "Are we going to check out the scene or are we going to gossip about Anderson's love for affairs?"

Lestrade sat his coffee down and pointed to the file on the table, "There's everything you need to know about the scene, you can check it out if you want."

John allowed Sherlock to look through the file first; he knew that Sherlock would have to eventually give up the file or forget about it, or maybe not even take it in the first place but he did take it in the end.

Sherlock flipped through the pages in 5 seconds flat and chucked the file back on the table and ran off.

John rolled his eyes towards Lestrade and muttered, "It's annoying when he runs off but I have to admit Greg-" John paused for a minute

Lestrade emptied the remaining coffee in the cup and sat it in the sink, "Admit what?"

John clutched the doorway and smiled, "That I missed this. Also that – I missed – Sherlock I guess. He may be annoying but he does give an energetic atmosphere when on a case." John gave a tap on the doorway and left Lestrade to be lonely in the cream kitchen.

Lestrade crossed his arms and laughed. He mumbled under his breath as he was slicking back his hand with one hand, "Yeah John, I missed it too."

* * *

><p>Sherlock was standing there with his deducing eyes and posture. He examined every tiny detail in the room from under Alice's fingernails to the small smudges on the carpet.<p>

John held his pen softly towards his mouth and let the end of the pen graze his lips, "Got anything?"

Sherlock lifted up Alice's left hand that was sprawled out to the side of her lifeless body, "On the back of her left hand, she wrote a message. 'Farrods sale'."

Sherlock started to mutter and process the evidence, "These words, 'Farrods sale' – Where, where have I seen these words before?"

Sherlock pointed to John, "Get out! I need to go to my mind palace."

John crossed his arms, "Sherlock are you bloody serious? Why do I need to leave?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tilted his head slightly towards John, "You're obviously distracting me with your presence."

John flashed a grin at Sherlock, "I can give you a god damn distraction right now but we're at a bloody-"

John lowered his voice and leaned towards Sherlock, "We're at a crime scene." John pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fine, fine I'll leave Sherlock, but next time _don't _just shout 'get out' hm?"

John left before Sherlock could give an answer. He stood outside the room with the door closed in compliance to Sherlock's needless demands.

John started to whine to himself, "I need to go my _mind palace_, he says. Get out he says."

John raised his voice in order for Sherlock to hear him, "God _damnit Sherlock_!"

_Goddamn Mind Palace__…_

Lestrade pranced over towards John and leant against the wall, "What's going on?"

John glared at Lestrade, "You know _what_."

Lestrade held up his hands to surrender, "Hey, I'm not the enemy here. Mind palace huh?"

John gave a small smirk and was glad that someone else understood, "Yeah, it gained me a free spot _outside the door_."

Lestrade used John's previous words like a knife in the back, "You said that you missed this John. I'm guessing you forgot about the _whole_ package, so to speak."

Before John could react, Sherlock slammed open the door and started to pace back and forth, "The message on the back of her left hand was from the radio show. It said in the file that it was the first time the advert had aired. A person wouldn't have bothered writing down a note if she had wanted to commit a self-inflicted death."

John's brain lit up for the second time at this crime scene, "She didn't _see death coming_. It wasn't suicide, **it was murder**."

If Lestrade had something to choke on, he would but he didn't, "But – hold on; so you're saying that she didn't kill herself – she was killed?"

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, as it turns out, Bobbie and Alice's killer are the one person but it isn't Alice as the Yard so dimly concluded."

John slumped his shoulders, "Sherlock, be nice."

Sherlock growled, "Fine. Also on the other hand." Sherlock perked right up, "I examined the smashed bottle of poison but I don't think that we can repair it back to its original form."

Lestrade pulled out his phone and started to talk while looking at it, "I guess that doesn't help much but-"

Sherlock and John talked in sync, "But what?" Except for when John added a 'Greg' and Sherlock went silent.

Lestrade put his phone away and gestured Sherlock and John to follow him; "We have Mike Francis back at the Yard. Given your previous experience John, we'd like you and Sherlock to question him."

They were in the elevator as this conversation progressed on, "Wait really Greg? I thought that it was a one time shot."

Sherlock looked at John and Lestrade with complete confusion but it didn't take long to pick it up.

_The previous case__…__ The one without me__…_

The detective, doctor and policeman reached Lestrade's car, "Get in." The policeman gestured into the back seats.

John and Sherlock joined in the back, and Lestrade soon followed to the front of the car and got himself settled in.

"Seatbelts on?" Lestrade turned his head towards the rear-view mirror.

John laughed and Sherlock rolled his eyes, "We are adults Lestrade. We do know about safety." Sherlock gave a sassy remark.

Lestrade just shrugged and laughed it off, "Okay, okay. Just making sure incase we have an accident you know?"

John answered for Sherlock, "Exactly Greg. Don't worry about Sherlock, if we crash-" John gazed up at Sherlock and reached in to squeeze his hand, "I've got him."

Sherlock could feel this pain in his heart progress from John's simple loyalty and kindness. How could Sherlock leave such an amazing and caring person like John? How could he leave John for two years and then pop out of the blue and expect everything to go back to normal?

_Maybe they are wearing masks to hide themselves__…_

Sherlock turned away and sat quietly for the rest of the trip. He didn't notice that Lestrade could see the tear of his face and the noise of his heart shattering; Sherlock just wanted to smash himself, he wanted to tear apart the guilt in him, he wanted to wreck the selfishness he had that drove him to leave John two years ago.

John's hand threaded in-between his made his guilt flare up, he could feel John's soft and caring hand against his troubled hand. It was like lightning and the shocks were slowly rising up through his arm, towards his heart.

_He wanted to give up on himself__…__ But in the end, John would never let that happen__…_

* * *

><p>The car came to a stop; Lestrade had parked himself out the front of Scotland Yard.<p>

"Alright boys." Lestrade undid his seatbelt and leaned over to John and Sherlock, "John, you know what to do. Sherlock, you can either choose to join John and help question or you can stick with me."

John nodded and he looked over to Sherlock, "How about it Sherlock?"

Sherlock was gazing out the window still and kept himself silent.

John wasn't angry for the absence of silence from Sherlock, he didn't know why he was like that but it didn't have enough power to even prick a slight anger fit out of him.

After a few seconds of silence and John looking at Lestrade with a 'what do we do' face, they both came to a conclusion.

Lestrade projected his voice with understanding and kindness, "Okay, Sherlock you can stick with me and we will sit and watch while John you can do the questioning. If you're comfortable John, I could join you in the room to help, like backup or something."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand tighter, "I think I'll be okay. Besides, I know Sherlock will probably run in to back me up or he might even have an epiphany about the case."

Sherlock didn't laugh nor did he even respond. They all got out of the car and walked inside but Sherlock didn't respond to Sally, Donovan or even Lestrade; he just quietly followed John whenever he would either tell Sherlock, 'this way' or give him a small tug on his sleeve.

They were all joined in the opposing side of the sound proof glass to Mike Francis. John made sure Sherlock was comfy with a blanket wrapped around him even though it was a comfortable warmth for everyone, and a cup of tea in his hands.

"I'll be back in a minute. Don't run off." John adjusted the blanket, which hung heavily on Sherlock's thin shoulders.

Sherlock could see the same soft smile John always wore when he was with Sherlock. It had a hint of protection in it but he always kept the soldier part of himself hidden away with Sherlock.

John exited the small room and Lestrade was about to follow when he decided to have a small chat with Sherlock.

"I saw the look you had in the car." Lestrade sighed heavily as he crossed his arms.

Sherlock didn't have to respond; he guessed it wasn't required for him to.

Lestrade continued, "I know it wasn't the 'relationship problem' look. I've seen that look and have had it before, trust me on that one."

Sherlock did trust Lestrade; he still kept his mouth shut and held the cup in his hands tighter. He could feel the heat of the cup in his palms.

Lestrade rubbed the back of his head with his hand, "Sherlock, whatever it is, don't beat yourself up for it okay? Hiding it wont help Sherlock. It creates a lot of tension and mainly problems not for yourself but for others around you, you wouldn't want to hurt John now, would you?"

Tears were pricking up in Sherlock's eyes, the kindness and forgiveness John harbors for Sherlock fills his heart but he really _doesn't want to hurt John_. Not again, never** ever** again.

_He would rather __**die **__than hurt John like that__…_

Sherlock shook his head and Lestrade smiled and left the room. Not long after did they re-enter in the room next to Sherlock and start to question Mike.

* * *

><p>Sherlock could tell by his fakery and his lies that he was the killer. There was evidence missing to support his claim but he <em>had <em>to be.

John was the first to introduce; he was calm and friendly, "Mr. Francis. I am Dr. Watson and this is Detective Inspector Lestrade. We would like to ask you a few questions regarding the death of Bobbie Redd and Alice Baker."

Mike chuckled and sat comfortably in his chair, "Of course. What can I do for you?"

John sat in the chair across from Mike and Lestrade stuck to the corner of the room, "We believe that you are responsible for the deaths of two innocent people." Lestrade crossed his arms and spoke strongly.

Mike looked at Lestrade but then turned back to John, "Who _are_ you people exactly?"

John raised his eyebrows and laughed, "Well, I am Dr. John Watson, accomplice of the detective Sherlock Holmes and this is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, of Scotland Yard."

Mike gave a relieved sigh, "Yes of course. But I can't be the killer because an officer who was working on this case told me that the tea girl were the one to kill poor Bobbie. Are you saying that this officer was mistaken?"

John licked his lips, "Yes, that's what we are saying."

Mike pulled a disappointed face and widened his eyes, "Well, I guess the officers have really lost their edge these days."

Lestrade raised his voice, "We always get there in the end; don't you worry about that!"

John agreed with Lestrade, "That's why you're hear Mr. Francis."

Mike glared at John, "I was told that it was poison that killed Bobbie. I wonder, what was the poison in?"

John took out a small note of Bobbie's death and showed Mike, "Mr. Redd was killed by a lethal poison put in his tea."

Mike chuckled, "Yes, that's what I heard. Who was it that brought the tea. I'm very forgetful these days." Mike hadn't forgotten.

John slide forward a photo of Alice, "It was brought in by a tea lady by the name of Alice Baker. She was the one to bring the drinks into the studio."

Mike looked at the photo and slid it back, "Of course. I remember her. She brought the tea to Bobbie. The tea laced with poison."

Lestrade rolled his eyes, "We can't be sure that the tea already contained the poison at that point in time."

Mike frowned and pulled the disappointed look again, "Oh is that so? Well, that's very interesting Detective Inspector. Tell me then, when was the poison added?"

John flicked through the file, "After the show had been interrupted."

Mike threw his hands into the air, "What an extraordinary idea." He also threw in sarcasm just to mess with the Detective Inspector and Doctor, "Bobbie died while on air but somehow the poison was added into the cup until after this time? I don't mean to offend you but, you really are a simple man aren't you?"

Sherlock was sitting there and watching the whole time while Mike was being completely rude to John. He hurled his cup of tea at the glass but the cup only smashed, it didn't leave a mark on the glass but it did leave dripping bits of tea everywhere.

John, Lestrade and Mike could hear the smashing noise from the other side. They paused for a few moments to process what had happened.

Lestrade laughed, "I wouldn't say that Mike, not in front of the Detective watching you behind that glass. You might earn a punch in the face."

Mike gaped his mouth open, "You would let something like that happen? You're an officer! You can't allow that to happen to me while I'm being questioned?"

Lestrade growled, "Like you said, 'we've lost our edge these days.' We could easily turn our backs and get away with it."

John interrupted the argument between the two; "Excuse me. I should go check on – I'll only be a minute."

John swiftly left the room and Lestrade gave a short warning to Mike before leaving himself.

It only took a few seconds for John to burst into where Sherlock was, "For Christ sake's Sherlock! What the bloody hell is going on?"

Sherlock rose up from his chair fiercely and let the blanket drop suddenly around him, " Didn't you hear him John? He called you 'simple'. That pathetic low-life called you 'simple' John."

Lestrade stood behind John and muttered towards them, "I'll be outside the door."

John gave a small chuckle of relief, "Sherlock, it's okay. He's just trying to get to us."

Sherlock grew red in the face, "I'm sorry John. I guess – never mind."

John held out his hand and questioned if this was a _good idea_, "You can help me if you want?"

Sherlock took the hand and they both exited the room.

John came bouncing out and excitedly added, "Sherlock's coming to join the party!"

Lestrade rubbed his eyes, "Glad to see you're joining in Sherlock, "Didn't want to miss out on the fun? He will be a hard one to crack. I can give you that."

Sherlock winked at John and gave a devious smile towards Lestrade, "Won't be too hard then."

John opened the door and apologized to Mike, "I'm very sorry to keep you waiting."

John walked back to his seat and Lestrade back to his corner, Sherlock just found another corner to stick to and keep quiet until he was needed.

Mike watched Sherlock walked to the other side of the room and stand at the top corner quietly, "Who is this, may I ask?"

John grinned, "This is Sherlock Holmes, I am his accomplice which I pointed out."

Lestrade weighed in, "He is also the man who shattered his tea against the glass."

Sherlock stared at Mike and he quickly started to deduce things about him. Mike became intimidated at a progressing rate.

_Greying hair, Liar, Killer, Coward, Anger problems, also lives alone._

John cleared his throat, "As I was saying before we were distracted, the poison was added after the show was cut and taken off air. I guess we all know what that means."

Mike didn't know what it meant, "I'm sorry but you've lost me on that one. This is all rather too fanciful for me."

Lestrade scratched his head and smiled again bit it was different in a _scary _way, "Why don't we handle this differently… I was wondering if you saw the victim's wig fall off when he collapsed?"

Mike responded too quickly, "As a matter of fact, I did. I saw the dreadlocked wig fly off when he collapsed."

John slid forward a small statement that was given by Monica, "Well, according to Miss Jane, the wig was definitely still on his head when he collapsed. She even gladly told us how shocking it was to see him without a wig."

Mike struggled to find an answer but he found a sly reply, "Erm…um… Yes, of course. I'm terribly sorry. I must've muddled up events in my head. It was still on his head when he collapsed but it was until I ran over to him and shook Bobbie, you see. I was in a blind panic."

John wrote the statement down and smiled, "Of course, I'll make a note of that."

Lestrade cleared his throat, "One more question Mr. Francis; did you notice Mr. Redd drinking his tea at all?"

John clicked his pen and got a blank small piece of paper from the file to write on. Mike looked at John and answered, "Yes he did sip his tea. It was after he took a bite of the macaroons that Miss Jane brought him. No doubt, it must've made him thirsty and when he drank his tea, he started to look choked; the rest, I think you know."

Without looking at Mike, John slid forward another statement, "Then we have another problem. You see, Miss Jane clearly stated that Mr. Francis didn't touch his tea."

Mike lost his temper; he stood up to yell at John, "You bastard!" Mike turned to Sherlock, "Do you really believe that you can trust this man! He's a serial liar!"

Sherlock growled at Mike, "I trust this man with my life, maybe even more."

John and Sherlock gazed at each other. In John's eyes, Sherlock could see him replying with an 'I do too.'

Mike scoffed and cut in-between Sherlock and John's telepathic conversation, "You must be suicidal then."

Lestrade cut into the conversation, "Mr. Francis, sit down." He pointed to Sherlock, "You, don't _say _anything."

John looked away and directed himself towards Mike, "No need for raised voices, Mr. Francis. We double checked over this statement and we did prove that Miss Jane was indeed, correct."

Mike was off in his own little world and snapped back when the room fell silent, waiting for his reply, "Sorry? I don't understand."

Lestrade bounced in before John could get his voice out, "There was a broken teacup at the crime scene but when we checked in the audio, there was no sound of a teacup breaking."

Mike grabbed a fistful of his hair, "How is this even relevant? You obviously know nothing about radio! It was the tea girl who poisoned his drink!"

Sherlock smirked in the corner and lurked there like a dark shadow in the night, "It matters a great deal. A cup that didn't break is broken. A wig that didn't fall off is lying on the floor. It's not that one witness or another failed to spot something. No, the crime scene has changed completely between the time of the transmission being interrupted and the police arriving. The answer is why."

Mike shrugged and let go of his hair, "How am I supposed to know?"

John cleared up the pictures and statements and provided a photo of evidence, "Mr. Redd was _pretending_ to die. This piece of evidence proves it. It clearly says, 'Well? Surprised?' The only way we could make of this cryptic message is to think that he was pretending to die during the show as a practical joke."

Mike glared at the photo and snapped at John, "Rubbish! It was obviously that tea girl who had tricked Bobbie into this! She's the one you want! She sent that _death threat_ through the fax! Did you see that? Good golly, you even found a _perfume bottle of poison_ next to her, didn't you? The other officers were right. She killed Bobbie and then killed herself! That's the end of that! You're all wasting my time!"

_You've betrayed yourself rotten Mike__…_

Sherlock joined in on all the commotion but only because he was up to something, "She didn't kill herself. John has evidence in that file which shows that her death wasn't _self-inflicted death _but, _murder_."

John smirked and slipped out a picture of Alice's left hand, "The note on her hand. 'Farrods – sale.' It says."

Mike widened his eyes in shock, how could he have missed this? But as always, he had a plan out, "She's trying to set me up! She obviously wrote that note on her hand to make it look like suicide! She's the killer!"

Lestrade yelled out, "Do know when to give up!"

Mike yelled back, "I am not admitting to a crime I did not commit!"

John sneered at him, "We've backed things up with _hard evidence_."

Mike clawed at the table, "Really? 'No doubt…' 'I suspect…' 'In all likelihood…' I've listened patiently to your conjecture for long enough! Now you listen to me…I have proof that the tea girl killed herself!"

John leaned back in his chair and waved his arms in an opening motion, "Do go on."

Mike went on, "First of all, there's the handwritten _death threat_. Secondly, there's the _perfume bottle of poison_. The same poison, which I might add, that was used to kill Bobbie and then she used for herself! Lastly, she was a die-hard fan of Bobbie! She would have had twisted feelings for the poor man! Can you honestly suspect anyone else with these three irrefutable pieces of hard evidence?"

John laughed and turned to Sherlock, "You're turn Sherlock."

Sherlock beamed forward like a little puppy, Mike was not pleased with him; "Mr. Lomes was it? No… it was Mr. Domes. Hold on… Ah yes it was Mr. Jones…"

Sherlock frowned and scrunched up his nose, "Get my name wrong one more time and I'll make sure your head will make the exact same noise as the teacup did."

Lestrade looked at John and pointed his fingers at him that formed a gun; he was representing the 'shots fired' motion. John silently laughed.

Mike opened his mouth and eyes wide, "Goodness gracious! I'm not quite sure I believe my ears! Are you sure you're a Detective? I demand you to allow me to go home! You are making me uncomfortable." Mike scoffed, "Besides, you have no evidence."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "We have evidence. If you don't mind, I would like to hear your three irrefutable pieces of hard evidence again. **If you dare**…"

Mike crossed his arms and fell for the trick, "Well maybe you didn't hear me but I'll repeat myself one more time. Firstly, there's the handwritten _request_ sheet. Secondly, there's _the perfume bottle of poison_. Lastly, the fact that she'd a die-hard fan of Bobbie."

Sherlock laughed so cynically that it started to darken the room, "You don't understand the very words coming out of your mouth."

Mike's blood started to run cold, he grew scared of this dark side of Sherlock, "What?"

Sherlock was so perfect at being a monster, "One of the three irrefutable pieces of evidence, Mike… is just the irrefutable pieces of evidence that proves your guilt."

Mike thought Sherlock was completely stupid and mad, "Excuse me?"

Sherlock started to elaborate, "You said, _'the perfume bottle of poison.'_ We only found glass shards at the scene of Alice's death. You blurted out something that only the real killer had known!"

Lestrade cheered the fight on, "This is why I come to work everyday! To see something like this! This is way better than Anderson and Donovan fighting…"

John laughed at the statement and Sherlock continued; "You carefully chose a ladies' perfume bottle so you could make it look like suicide. But then there was something that you didn't quite bank on. _The girl wasn't quite dead_. She threw the bottle at the wall as if she was leaving a sign. To show that it wasn't suicide, _it was murder_. It smashed into small pieces so it was impossible to piece back together, but you didn't know that. Only the real killer could name have known what to make of these glass shards." Sherlock smacked a photo of the glass shards at the crime scene.

Mike rubbed the back of his head and smiled, "Oh dear, silly me. Hah, hah, hah. I must've said the wrong thing!"

Sherlock leaned in close to Mike and growled at him, "You said the wrong thing? You repeated it no less than three times and you claimed that you said the wrong thing?"

Mike bellowed, "Erm…then you heard me wrong! Yes, I never said any such thing!"

Sherlock pulled a device out of his pocket and sat it on the table, "If that's how you want to play this game, then listen to this

* * *

><p><strong>Mike: She's the one you want! She sent that <strong>_**death threat**_** through the fax! Did you see that? Good golly, you even found a **_**perfume bottle of poison**_** next to her, didn't you?**

* * *

><p>Sherlock clapped his hands together, "That was the first time."<p>

Mike's voice became shaky and quiet, "But… How did you?"

Sherlock had the upper hand, "I found it when I was watching you lie through your teeth. Of course, I threw the teacup for a distraction so I could gain entry. All I needed was for the right strings to be pulled and voila. The final piece of evidence was _you _Mr. Francis."

* * *

><p><strong>Mike: First of all, there's the handwritten <strong>_**death threat**_**. Secondly, there's the **_**perfume bottle of poison**_**.**

* * *

><p>Sherlock pressed the pause button, "There's the second. Would you like to hear the third?"<p>

Mike sighed deeply, "No. You win." Mike confessed to everything from planning the practical joke to murdering Bobbie and Alice.

John frowned, "You haven't once called the tea lady by her first name. Do you know what it is?"

Mike tapped the table, "Erm… It was Charlotte wasn't it?"

Lestrade threw his hands in the air, "It was flaming Alice! You really are scum!"

Sherlock nodded at Lestrade, "Detective Inspector, have this man arrested."

The three men walked out of the room as Lestrade called in some officers to arrest Mike Francis.

"You know Sherlock, in another life, you'd make a great criminal." Lestrade smiled at Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his hand, "And you, a great officer."

John couldn't help but snort at the comment, "See you later Greg. We're going home Sherlock."

The two boys did just that. They went back to 221B to relax from a dramatic day.

_Just another day, for Sherlock and John. _


	4. Forgiving the Rain ch:4

The rain was his only escape,

It put tears on his face when he couldn't make any,

It saved him.

Sherlock clutched his knees,

He didn't want to hurt anyone.

To hide was the only way,

To keep John safe.

He wrote into the dirt,

**'Forgive me John.'**

He hoped he would forgive,

And forgive alone.

~ Forgiving The Rain

* * *

><p>Everything seemed normal when Sherlock looked around, it was only when he observed, that he could see the cracks in people's hearts.<p>

_He could feel his own__…_

Sherlock would wonder if John was happy, if he wasn't wearing a mask so Sherlock couldn't see his cracks. Sherlock imagined what the mask might look like, a paper bag maybe? Or it could be war paint, with blood dripping down his face and have green single stripes across his cheeks to show how much of a soldier he is.

Sherlock was happy; he imagined John was too. But there was a tingle in his body, it was minor but when he'd pay attention to it; the tingle would grow.

The tingle would cause doubt, shame and above all, sadness. The sadness for John, sadness for hurting him, sadness for leaving him alone for two years. He heard John that day, after he came back home. He listened to every word being said by the broken man:

'_I had your little voice in my head! It drove me mad!'_

Did it really drive John mad? Did Sherlock really hurt John so much that it drove him to the brink of madness?

John clicked his fingers in front of Sherlock, "Sherlock? Are you okay? Sherlock?"

Sherlock came back into reality, "Sorry, John. I was just uh – never mind…"

John handed Sherlock a cup of tea, "You've been zoning out ever since the case ended. Are you alright?"

It had been almost a week after the case that John liked to call, 'Bobbie Redd's Swansong.' Sherlock disagreed on the name but John used it on his blog anyway.

Sherlock used his mask to cover up everything, "I'm fine John. Just thinking."

John smiled and grabbed his coat, "I'll be out for a few hours. I'm helping Greg with a few things, okay?"

Sherlock smiled back, "That's fine." Of course, on the inside, Sherlock wasn't smiling.

John called out as he left the apartment, "Call or text if you need anything!"

Sherlock waited for the noise of the door closing and he stared at his tea, "John. Come back."

* * *

><p>It was the worst 8 hours of Sherlock's life. He spent most of the time in his mind palace, curled up and doubting. It only got worse when he decided to use John's laptop.<p>

Sherlock found it in John's old room, sitting on his bed. He wanted to use it for research purposes just to keep his mind off everything. But he came across something else entirely. It wasn't on the laptop; it was sitting on top of an unclosed box at the end of John's bed.

Sherlock set the laptop aside and lurched over to inspect this object. It was small, had a hard cover, and smelled like John. It was a small notebook made by the company of **paperblanks**.

He didn't want to invade John's privacy but there was an overpowering urge to open and read the contents of this notebook. Sherlock could tell it had been used because of the markings on the spine and the small bends in the corner of this notebook. It had a beautiful cover that had an embellished manuscript. Sherlock could imagine what John would say when he found out he read this notebook.

Sherlock stared at the notebook, which weighed down his hands. He was debating in his head whether or not to read this book. Sherlock used his mind palace for this debate:

* * *

><p><em>Mind Palace:<em>

Sherlock was in a courtroom with Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft. There were two sides, the 'read the notebook' side and the 'don't read the notebook' side.

The whole room was yelling at Sherlock. Donovan and Anderson were yelling to read the notebook while Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were yelling not to read the notebook.

Mycroft stood above all of them, he banged his gavel and began to rule the courtroom; he was Sherlock's logic, "The courtroom is now in session." Mycroft leaned towards Sherlock, "Now Sherlock, dear brother, you must make a choice. To read or not to read that is the question."

Sherlock looked around towards the people in the almost empty room. They each represented a part of him.

* * *

><p><strong>Lestrade: <strong>Loyalty

**Donovan: **Curiosity

**Anderson: **Betrayal

**Mrs. Hudson: **Forgiveness

**Mycroft: **Logic

* * *

><p>Sherlock looked towards his brother, "What do I do?"<p>

Mycroft smiled and started to slowly disappear, "Find an answer." Mycroft faded away in Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock turned to Donovan, "Donovan. What do you think?"

Donovan stood up and she shrugged, "If I were you, I'd read it. But then again, it depends Sherlock."

Sherlock tilted his head, "On what?"

Donovan smiled at the floor and looked back at Sherlock, "You used me to represent curiosity Sherlock. You are also predicting, based on what you know about me to decide what I would do. The same goes with all of us."

As Donovan sat down, Anderson jumped up, "Read the notebook Sherlock! You do technically have a warrant ever since you started a relationship with John. Just read it! You can always lie to him later! It's not like you haven't secretly done things to get information about John before. Be honest with yourself."

Sherlock swiped Anderson away with his hand, "I'm not going to lie to John! The middle name was different! Be relevant to this situation Anderson, for once in your pitiful, cheating life."

Lestrade yelled at Anderson, "Anderson you prick! That's betrayal!"

Anderson snapped back, "What do you think I represent Lestrade? Friendship? You must be out of your mind!"

They all began to fight except for Mrs. Hudson who covered her frail ears and looked terrified.

Sherlock yelled over their squabbling voices, "Quiet! I said quiet!" There was silence in the courtroom, Sherlock kindly expressed himself towards Mrs. Hudson, "What is it Mrs. Hudson?"

Mrs. Hudson pressed her hands together, "Oh Sherlock, dear. You can't possibly think that this is a good idea. You are emotionally compromised right now because of the past, which keeps trying to drag you back. It doesn't matter if you read it or not, it matters on what you do with it. Do you use the information from the notebook on John or do you ignore it and get over your feelings towards the past another way. Sherlock, it could have something in there about your past and if you open it dear, it might bring everything back. Don't feed the fire with oxygen dear, feed it with water."

Mycroft appeared out of the darkness, "Have you chosen yet brother?"

Sherlock took in every opinion he was given by these four people, "Not quite yet." Sherlock started to make people disappear with the point of his finger, he first started with Anderson, followed by Donovan and then lastly, Mrs. Hudson.

Lestrade was the only one left. Sherlock wanted something from him first, "Lestrade. I want you to tell me something before I make my decision."

Lestrade crossed his arms, "What is that exactly?"

Sherlock was upset, and broken when he looked at Lestrade's eyes, "What would you do? Or even – maybe John?"

Lestrade came over and pressed one of his hands on Sherlock's shoulder, "Look Sherlock." Lestrade smiled at Sherlock, "Mrs. Hudson had a point, it depends on what you are feeling and right now, you didn't _need us_ for this debate. Sherlock, the only person who wants to read this notebook is _you_ and _you alone. _Whatever is in there may shed some light or it may just be bunches of random notes. You don't know until you read it. The only people you should ask, is either yourself, or John. Are you ready to live with whatever happens? Ask yourself that Sherlock."

Lestrade let go of his shoulder and disappeared. Mycroft walked around Sherlock to face him, "Are you ready to make a decision?"

Before Sherlock could answer, the courtroom doors burst open; "Wait! Hold on a minute!"

John was running forward towards Sherlock, "Sherlock! Just one minute." John stood before Sherlock and he huffed a few times until he could properly breathe, "You have no idea how long I had to run to get here. It's difficult to find your way through a mind palace, especially yours Sherlock."

Mycroft stood back and walked backwards into the darkness from where he appeared.

Sherlock was speechless for once in his life, "John. What are you – How did you – John?"

John smirked and looked around the room, "This is not the best scenery in the world. Can we go somewhere else? Like maybe back home?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and concentrated on finding his way to 221B. He imagined going down flights of stairs and passing through rooms to get to his apartment. Moments passed and as he was vaguely travelling down this bright road, he saw the colour of his apartment door. Sherlock opened the door and found his way through, back to where everything started.

John looked at Sherlock and smiled, "Much better. Don't you think?"

Sherlock didn't know what John represented, he was blocked, compromised, in every way and he couldn't get out of it, "John. First of all, I'm sorry."

John laughed and sat in his chair with his notebook in his hand, "Don't say that to me Sherlock, I'm only the mind palace version of John. Or better yet, I'm a representation with John's face. The closest person to the representation. Gotta admit, _that's clever_."

Sherlock sat down in his chair and crossed part of his right leg over the other, making his knee stick out and only his ankle resting on his left leg, "I know. I just don't know what to do. I need your help. Whatever you represent, help me."

John crinkled his nose, "I don't know why you're making such a fuss about this Sherlock. I'm sure whatever you find; John will forgive you one way or another. If you feel compelled by this information, you can just delete it out of your mind."

Sherlock planted his fingers on his lips, "I never delete things about John."

John rubbed his hands together, "Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. You make this complicated. I'm sure that everything will turn out okay, stop overthinking and trust yourself. Trust your own judgement, you don't – really…need me."

Sherlock stared at John, "Don't say that. You don't know that for certain."

John got up from his chair and kneeled down to Sherlock, he gave Sherlock the notebook and bushed his thumb with Sherlock's lips. John smiled and stood up again, "I trust you with this Sherlock." John gave a small chuckle, "You really don't know what I represent?"

Sherlock shook his head and stared into the man's honest eyes.

John leant in and whispered a word into Sherlock's ear and then pressed a small kiss on Sherlock's head. As Sherlock could feel the hot tingle of John's lips, he left his mind palace.

* * *

><p>Sherlock came back into reality, he had John's notebook in his hands. He decided that he <em>was<em> going to read it. It sounded selfish and an invasion of privacy but there was something that drove him towards this notebook and he _intended to seek it out_.

Sherlock slowly opened the book, afraid that it was so fragile that he would break it. It had a small note written on the first page, it wasn't from John.

* * *

><p><em>To John,<em>

_I think you should have this notebook._

_It may seem like a stupid idea but,_

_If you don't want to talk about it,_

_I think you should at least,_

_**Write about it.**_

_~ Greg Lestrade_

* * *

><p>Sherlock wondered what Lestrade was on about at the time but it all fell into place when Sherlock turned to the next page.<p>

* * *

><p><em>It has been almost 2 months. I can't get him out of my head. I've started to get involved with a case that Lestrade wanted me to help on. I'll see how I go with that. It might not be a friendly reminder but of course, I promised him. I'll still keep that promise, I just – miss him too much right now. I hope I can pull through all of this and look forward to the day that Sherlock will come back home to me.<em>

* * *

><p>Sherlock felt his heart clash with his lungs. It pounded and moved around his ribcage, it tore and brought pain to Sherlock. He couldn't believe John had written something like this.<p>

Once Sherlock started, he couldn't stop. It felt wrong to proceed but he was concerned about how John went and he thought this was an answer to all of his questions.

Sherlock read every single page in that notebook. Sherlock came across a thick black sketchy headline that stated, 'It got worse.' Sherlock read the contents underneath the compelling headline.

* * *

><p><em>I saw Sherlock today. The voices in my head are no longer voices; they have transformed into visions.<em>

_I was out getting some milk which I had run out of, that moment it reminded me of the time where I used to nag Sherlock about getting the milk. But it all happened when I saw Greg. I saw him in the shop and he asked me '__**how I was holding up' **__and I said __**'alright'**__ and then when I asked him and he said he's '__**doing great'**__, I saw Sherlock behind him saying, __**'Liar. See the bags under his eyes? Or the stain on his shirt? He's clearly had a rough night, ex-wife, evidence is everywhere John. Look for it.'**_

_I dropped everything in my hands and I remember clutching my face and losing balance and screaming, __**'get out of my head!'**__ Greg pulled me up and told me that I __**'needed help.'**__ And if I was __**'using the notebook he gave me.' **__He thought it mightn't be working._

_I guess I couldn't handle it. I hadn't been coping very well lately but seeing Sherlock, made it seem like he was actually there. Sometimes I question whether he will ever come home, but he promised._

* * *

><p>Sherlock continued reading everything that John went through, 2 hours passed until he reached the end of the notebook.<p>

Sherlock couldn't believe what he had read, "No, no, no, NO!" Sherlock hurled the notebook across the room and it made a loud '**THUMP**' as it hit the wall.

Sherlock clutched his hair and started to mumble around the apartment, "How could I be so stupid? I was meant to protect John! I made a promise! I…I…God." Sherlock curled himself up on the couch. He stayed there in a little ball for hours and let his mind run wild with thoughts.

* * *

><p>John arrived back to the apartment and he looked exhausted, "I'm back. Sorry I'm late; Greg wanted my help with moving his stuff into his new apartment. We went out for dinner and then grabbed a beer. I hope you don't mind."<p>

John saw Sherlock curled up in a ball with a blanket thrown over his thin body, "Sherlock? Are you – what's going on?"

Sherlock didn't give John eye contact, "I already ate too." Sherlock was lying, "I'm just – _tired_."

John sat on the edge of the couch and brushed his fingers through Sherlock's hair, "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't been yourself lately."

Sherlock hid behind his mask again and he smiled, "I've just had some things on my mind lately. I'll be okay."

John could see that there was something else but he decided to _overlook_ it, "You don't mind coming back to bed then? It doesn't look that comfy on the couch."

Sherlock nodded and hoisted himself up from the couch. Sherlock followed John to his bedroom where they changed and snuggled in together.

John quickly dozed off which left Sherlock on his own. He should be happy that his questions were answered but knowing the answers made him want the answered questions to be unanswered again.

Sherlock could now see what he was blinded by long ago. He now could understand how John felt when he confessed _everything_. The words John had written down in the notebook to what he said to Sherlock was like reading a book and then watching the movie. John had secrets inside himself but you had to dig deeper to see what they _actually were_.

Sherlock swiftly left the bed, got changed, found the notebook he threw across the room and left the apartment. He just wanted to walk through the park in the middle of the night with only his thoughts.

* * *

><p>John woke up alone. He blindly felt with his hands, the existing space which was meant to be filled with Sherlock.<p>

John sat up, rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. He thought Sherlock must've been out in the living room or kitchen but when he checked those spots, _he wasn't there_.

Next came the bathroom and all the other following rooms, upstairs, downstairs, every corner, shouting out '**Sherlock?**' John didn't panic; Sherlock must be out doing some things.

John thought that everything in his old room might need some final packing. He taped up his boxes, he didn't notice that his notebook wasn't where he left it but he still left his bed all the same just incase. John cleaned up the room, removing notes and items, which he could throw out. 3 hours passed with this task.

Mrs. Hudson came in with tea, "John? Sherlock? I brought tea."

John came out of his room and into the living room where Mrs. Hudson was holding a tray of tea and biscuits, "Where's Sherlock?"

John shrugged, "I don't know. He wasn't here when I woke up. Would you know anything about that?"

John sat down and reached for a cup of tea, Mrs. Hudson looked worried, "I heard the door open and close really late last night. I think it was the middle of the night but I didn't hear anyone come back in."

John's heart stopped in his chest, he placed the cup down before he even had the chance to drop and smash it, "So Sherlock left in the middle of the night and he hasn't returned. _Shit._ Jesus Christ!"

It made sense; the other side of the bed did feel _really cold_ when John woke up. John threw on his jacket and pulled out his phone. He first called Sherlock but noticed that Sherlock had left his phone at the apartment. John got really worried and called Lestrade.

"Hello?" Lestrade spoke loudly into the phone.

"Greg. It's John. Sherlock apparently left our apartment really late last night and he hasn't come back." John's voice was worried and shaky.

There were a few mumbles in the background but Lestrade replies, "Christ! Okay I'll get a team and we will go looking for him."

John sighed deeply, "Thanks. I'll also be on the lookout."

Lestrade tried to comfort John, "Don't worry John, we will find him."

John thanked Lestrade again and hung up the phone, "I'll look for Sherlock. Can you stay here and if you hear Sherlock come back, tell him that he's in trouble and we are looking for him."

Before Mrs. Hudson could reply, John was out the door faster than a lightning strike.

* * *

><p>Lestrade was already out the front of John's apartment, "John, where do you want us to look?"<p>

John pointed in many directions, "Go to places where Sherlock may likely be. See if there's been any suspicious reporting's of kidnappings or maybe someone out drugging people. _We need to find him_."

Lestrade made a call, "Got it. I'll get a team out and we will make a wide search." Lestrade held his hand to cover his phone, "Where are you going?"

John held his phone shakily, "I'll make a call and then I'll search other places."

Lestrade nodded and got in his car as he started to talk to whoever was on the other line. Lestrade added to John, "I'll drive you."

John nodded and then focused back to his phone call.

"John?" The voice croaked out.

"Mycroft. I need your help." John used his free hand to clutch his forehead.

Mycroft noticed John's worried tone of voice, "What is it?"

John could barely get the words out, "It's Sherlock. He left late last night and he hasn't come home. He hasn't been himself lately. Do you know where he could be?"

There was a short pause and John swore that Mycroft hung up until he earned a reply, "When Sherlock was young; he went to this park near my parents house. He used to go there when he was upset or just wanted to think. I'll give you the directions."

John cursed under his breath, "Shit. That's like _ages_ away! He couldn't have run off that far."

Mycroft sighed into the phone, "Trust me John, he'll be there."

John grabbed a pen out of his pocket and a notepad, which Lestrade handed to him when John clicked his fingers to what he wanted. He wrote down the address and hung up the phone.

John slid into the passenger seat and started to explain to Lestrade, "We need to go here. Here is the address." John handed the note that contained the location of the park.

Lestrade used his car navigation system and started to follow every turn, every corner and every street that it pointed out.

John stayed silent the whole time, looking out of the window. It started to rain heavily almost instantly after they got near their location.

Lestrade swore at the rain, "_Shit_. I hope he's okay. He must be a handful John. I guess you never get bored."

John chuckled, "He's not that much of a handful, it's only really since he has been acting…_differently._"

* * *

><p>The two boys arrived at the park and John could see a cloaked, drenched figure sitting on a swing, in the rain.<p>

John breathed out, "_Christ! _You don't mind waiting here? It beats getting us both wet."

Lestrade watched Sherlock and nodded to John.

John left the car and paced himself towards Sherlock. He could see the water dripping from Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock could feel John's presence, "How'd you find me?"

John was concerned, "Mycroft told me that you used to come here when you were younger. How long have you been out here?"

Sherlock couldn't bear to look at him, "Not very long, I was walking around and broke into the observatory to watch the world for a while. I came here afterwards."

John sat in the swing next to Sherlock, "Sherlock, I've been really worried; you scared me half to death! There's no point in me asking because I know that you're not okay."

Sherlock closed his eyes and he could feel his lungs tighten, "John…I'm sorry."

John didn't mind the rain; it wasn't cold enough to make him shiver, "Sherlock. Tell me what's going on. _Please_."

Sherlock could feel the begging tone in John's voice. He couldn't keep this a secret any longer, not if it's going to hurt the one he _cares _about, more so than himself.

Sherlock pulled out John's notebook and handed it to him, "I found it in your room and read it while you were out yesterday. I felt bad for reading it, I didn't want you to think I was invading your privacy but I – Is what is said in there? – How you felt while I was gone?"

John half-smiled and held the notebook, "I knew you would find it eventually but it still doesn't explain why you were acting up before yesterday. To be honest Sherlock, in this notebook, I wasn't lying."

Sherlock shut his eyes and took a deep breath, he was prepared to tell the truth, "I've been… speculating whether I've hurt you a lot and you've been hiding the truth from me. Your confession made me think – hard about what I did and I – _god_, I'm so sorry John."

John felt the rain drench his hair, "It's okay Sherlock-"

Sherlock sniffled, "It wasn't until I found the notebook, that I gained answers. But I'm still not sure if you're being a 100% honest with me. Why didn't you tell me?"

John kept himself calm, "I didn't want you to worry. I don't _care_ about the past anymore Sherlock. You're home now and that's all that matters. You kept your promise and I hope – I seriously do; hope that I kept mine."

Sherlock ruffled his hair; "I was in my mind palace before I read the notebook. We had a debate whether or not to read it, Donovan was 50/50, Anderson said yes, Lestrade was 50/50 and Mrs. Hudson was a no. Mycroft didn't say anything. They were like that because they all represented a quality and just used their faces in particular because they were the closest people to representing the quality."

John smiled at the thought of a debate between those people, "Really? Was I in the debate?"

Sherlock tilted his head, "Not at first, you came later on after everyone left."

John gained interest, "What qualities were Sally, Phillip, Greg, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft? Also, what happened when I arrived?"

Sherlock cleared his throat, "Donovan was _curiosity_, Anderson was _betrayal_, Greg was _loyalty_, Mrs. Hudson was _kindness_ and Mycroft was _logic_."

John frowned, "What about me?"

Sherlock started to thread his fingers together, "When you arrived – it changed. You took me away from the courtroom we were in and back to our apartment. You said that 'you trusted me' and when I tried to apologize, you said to tell it to the _real_ John. He also said that I needed to 'trust my judgement' and if I felt compelled to this notebook, I can just delete it out of my mind."

John's heart sped up, "But you didn't delete it. Why?"

Sherlock smiled, "Well I told him that I never deleted anything about you. That is the truth."

John laughed, "Okay. So anyway, what did I represent in the end?"

Sherlock looked at John with sadness, "He laughed at me when I didn't know at first, how could I? I was emotionally compromised at that point. He whispered it in my ear."

John leaned closer, "What did I say?"

Sherlock whispered into John's wet ear, he could taste the rain that dripped down his nose and cheeks, "He said one word… A short four lettered word that surprised me all the same… It was – the word **Love**."

John became speechless; he couldn't pronounce a single word, "Sherlock…"

Sherlock moved away and slowly swung himself on the swing, "Of course I was confused at first and never expected it. I expected you to be kindness or loyalty, which are all qualities I see in you and admire greatly about you John. Of course, there wouldn't be a point to Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson then. But there are other things I admire about you besides those, the way you can forgive people, especially me after everything I put you through-"

John reached out his hand, "Sherlock…You don't have to-"

Sherlock started to form tears in his eyes, "No! You don't – John, I finally understand now. When you told me that you represented love, it opened my mind. It was _you_ and _only you _who didn't need to represent a quality to show that you have those qualities; you only had to be _yourself_ because it was good enough for me. You trusted me with your world John, you tried to keep me safe by hiding away all the pain. **You did it out of love**."

John chuckled into Sherlock's shoulder, "Of course I did. Of course it was out of love. That's why I did it, I'm not afraid to say I love you Sherlock, I'm not."

Sherlock squeezed his eyes, it _hurt_, and it hurt so much, "I'm afraid that I'm going to hurt you again John, that I may put you through this pain again. I'm afraid that if it gets to a point where I have to leave you again, I might come back and find you not there. I _can't lose you_."

John entwined his hand with Sherlock's, "Just shut up. I've already forgiven you, idiot."

Sherlock saw the beauty in John's eyes; _this moment entirely _was not about John forgiving Sherlock, _this moment _was not about Sherlock forgiving John, _this moment was about Sherlock forgiving himself_ and Sherlock could finally see that.

John got off the swing and shook his hair while still holding Sherlock's hand, "C'mon you git. We're going home, I'm surprised you haven't got a cold."

Sherlock felt the tug of John's hand as he got up from the swing. John laughed as Sherlock squeezed his hand tighter.

"That reminds me, we haven't been on a date together." John slowly dawdled towards Lestrade's car.

Sherlock's cheeks started to turn a tomato red, "A…date? You – me?"

A smirk pushed it's way out of John's mouth, "Yes. A date. Me, you, dinner and a show. As they call it."

Sherlock couldn't think straight for once in his life, "I guess – I mean… yes?"

John answered back in less than a second, "Not just yes, promise that we will have just a night, only a single night Sherlock; it won't distract you from anything or we could make sure it won't get in the way-"

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh into his wet scarf, "A date. Never really been on a date. What does one do? It sounds tedious."

John had his _fair share _of tedious dates, "Only if it goes bad. Just – say yes?"

Sherlock clicked his tongue, "Okay."

Well this is going to get interesting, "Good." John was nervous but he was also relaxed.

John opened the car door for Sherlock. After Sherlock got in the car, John soon followed and then soon followed by the yelling noise of Lestrade and the rolling of Sherlock's eyes.

**This will be interesting****…**


	5. The First Date ch:5

John could smell the musky leather of the car seats. This was getting to a point of complete annoyance and madness. John had been travelling _blindfolded_ for 20 minutes now and he didn't understand why all this closure was necessary.

The car came to a sudden halt, which nearly flew John out the front of the car. He was escorted, still blindfolded, to a small office filled with luxurious furniture and smelled like _purity_.

John listened to what Sherlock had once told him, he took note of all the turns, from right to left and made a mental map in his head of where to go if needed; to escape basically.

The blindfold was taken off and John could finally see. The fact that all he could really see was blue wasn't helping but it was sure as hell better than black.

A rich, strong voice filled the room, "Hello John. I apologize for the blindfold once again."

_Mycroft Holmes__…_

John always loved to toy with Mycroft, "Necessary? We both know that it wasn't."

Mycroft pressed his hands together and slowly closed them, "You wanted to see me."

John cynically laughed, "Yes I did Mycroft, but I thought maybe it would be a bit more _normal?_ Of course you are a Holmes, so I wouldn't exactly expect any better."

Mycroft took this into account, "How is my brother treating you?"

John crossed his arms, "Good. He's doing okay now."

Mycroft adjusted his tie, "I heard what happened to Sher-"

John snapped, "Don't change the subject Mycroft. You and I both know that it would be better if we kept this as short as possible. Hm?"

Mycroft did find this _awfully strange_, "What can I do for you John?"

John smiled like the devil making a deal, "You owe me a favour. Correct?"

Mycroft became concerned of this smile but decided to not act intimidated, "Yes I do. What favour do I exactly owe John?"

John leant back into his chair and sucked on his teeth, "I want to take Sherlock Holmes… _on a date_."

* * *

><p>Sherlock was taking a shower because John enforced it. Normally Sherlock didn't waste time doing petty things like <em>showering <em>but in the end, he didn't have much of a choice.

John was up to something. It wasn't as if Sherlock stunk and _needed_ a shower, it was something that John had planned, and the only way for John to make Sherlock wear what he wanted.

_Mycroft may have mentioned one or two tricks__…_

As sneakily and sly as John could harbor, he slid into the bathroom, stole Sherlock's clothes and replaced them with something else. John then found a way to lock the door; now all he had to do was _wait_.

* * *

><p>After 15 minutes, the <em>fun begins. <em>It started with a **'YELP'** from Sherlock that alarmed John.

John couldn't help but crack a giggle, "Sherlock? You okay?"

Sherlock sounded more than distressed, "John! What happened to my clothes? The door is also locked! Did you – put me up to this?"

John's game was pretty strong, "Well. I had some help and a handy tip from a certain _someone_. I've taken away your clothes and replaced them; you'll find everything you need in the small bag hanging on the rack."

John heard rumbling and then a loud groan from Sherlock, "John. I'm not putting this on."

This was complete madness for Sherlock. Why would John want Sherlock to put this stupid outfit on? What kind of game is this? _Oh god__…__ I hope this isn't some twisted kind of role-play__…_

John leaned his body against the door, "Sorry Sherlock but, you have to. I'm not letting you out until you do."

Sherlock dropped the bag onto the ground, "Are you serious?"

John chuckled deep into his throat, "Dead serious Sherlock."

There was a small pause but Sherlock continued to protest, "I'm not getting dressed. Keep me in here for as long as you wish. I _will _find a way to get out of here."

John started to walk away, "Good luck Sherlock. You know, this isn't a crime scene or rocket science, you can solve this by just putting on the goddamn clothes."

Sherlock started to yell, "Why do I have to wear this?!"

For John, this game was awfully fun, "You aren't alone Sherlock; I'm wearing one too. Maybe slightly different to yours but still around the same category."

Sherlock started to gain interest, "Really? What's the occasion?"

John called out one more time before he walked off to rest on the couch, "Put it on and you'll see."

* * *

><p>It took an additional 40 minutes for Sherlock to decide to give in or tough it out, some included trying to unlock the door or break it down which failed miserably.<p>

With every part of his pride being lost to this battle, Sherlock gave in, "John. You can unlock the door now, you win this round."

There was a small click on the other side and a quiet chuckle. Sherlock decided not to leave straight away; he just looked at himself dressed in an expensive suit.

After a few moments of gawking and fixing himself, Sherlock left the bathroom to see John standing in the lounge room, dressed in a suit as well.

Sherlock didn't hesitate; he marched his way over towards John and shoved him onto the floor. Sherlock climbed on top of him, pinning his arms to the floor.

"Tell me what's going on." Sherlock snarled at John.

John wasn't intimidated or threatened, he was used to this, "Go on, and deduce it out of me. You're good at that." John huffed in Sherlock's face with breath filled with peppermint and cynicism.

Sherlock scrunched up his nose with contempt, "Not this time. Tell me John or I'll tear your clothes apart."

John laughed, "Oh Sherlock, you can do that later." John was oozing temptation, "But for now, they stay on. If you want to know about the whole bathroom plan, I have to admit something first; _I had help_."

Sherlock frowned, "By who?" Sherlock figured it out pretty quickly, "Oh. _Mycroft_. He told you this, did he?"

John clicked his tongue, "He _did _owe me a favour."

Sherlock nipped at John's ear, "What is the full extent of this so-called _favour_?"

John bit his lip, "Well, you know how I said that we haven't been on a date before?" There was a slight pause of silence, "Tonight, we are going on a date. Mycroft owed me a favour so I used it on an attempt to take you out for dinner."

Sherlock frowned, "But why? Why do you want to take me out on a date?"

John wriggled his arms out of Sherlock's grip and sat up, breathing closely to Sherlock, "Why not? Can't I take you out on a date? I think it will be fun."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes; John was playing a game, "What if I get bored? Then it will be just a waste of time that I could've used to experiment on things."

John shook his head slightly, "You won't. I know because if you do, you won't get to see the real _fun _begin."

The tension between the Detective and Doctor was so tight; you could easily slice it with a knife. Temptation collided them both but John was _saving _his for later.

Sherlock studied John's face; he could see every tiny detail throughout John, except for one. This is what boggled Sherlock, kept this game interesting. He would tear John inside out if it meant he could just _know _what John was hiding.

John straightened up Sherlock's tie and gave a small wink, "Your tie was out of place. You should be more careful."

Sherlock loosened his tie slightly, John tied it too tight on purpose, "Same goes with you John Watson. _Don't play games with me_."

John stared into Sherlock's eyes with _sun-like fire eyes. _He raised his eyebrow and licked his lips.

"Where have I heard that from?" John was being a cocky asshole, "Oh! I know…**Doctor Who**. Got anything original Sherlock?"

Sherlock pulled a dark and gloomy face, it leered at John, "_I don't know, and I really don't like not knowing._"

They both gave a chuckle like they were teenagers again. Some people say that if you saw them smiling, the gravity between them would instantly disappear.

John leaned on his arms and laughed, "Come on Sherlock, I don't want to be late."

Sherlock slowly crept away off John so he could get up from the floor. He kept his eyes locked on John's as he slowly pulled himself off the ground, waiting for a reaction from John; he didn't give one.

The Detective and Doctor left 221B with a wave and a 'goodbye' for Mrs. Hudson. She looked undoubtedly excited and blabbered on about the time her husband took her out to dinner and how fantastic it was.

_Of course, they didn't really listen__…_

There was a limousine out the front of Baker Street, waiting for John and Sherlock. Of course John knew about this and wasn't surprised as they stepped out the door. Sherlock was a little on edge but, as the man he is, he deduced it out of John.

There was a man in uniform who opened the door for Sherlock and John. They both slid in with a 'thank you' from John and a silent sway from Sherlock. The limousine had a fresh cleaning smell but with a hint of all the perfumes and musk's of previous passengers.

John thought that it smelled _nothing _like Mycroft's. It had different mixes and tones that made it more interesting while Mycroft's just smelled like him.

"John, where are we going?" Sherlock put his elbow on the side of the limousine and huffed his cheek into his hand.

John gave a small laugh, "If I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise now would it Sherlock?" There was a small shine of challenge in John's eyes.

Sherlock gave an evil grin John didn't think he was ever capable of giving, "I suppose not, or I could just make you tell me."

John stood his ground, "Lay a single _finger _on me Sherlock and you'll lose." It didn't sound so grounded than John hoped for, it was more along the lines of _intimidated._

Sherlock could see past the queries of John, he wasn't stupid, he had never been called _stupid _in his life but if you counted the time that Mycroft said it out of trying to be the smarter one then… _yes _he had been called stupid but – Mycroft was an ass. Sherlock thought that all the sugar from his cake was degrading his 'so-called' intelligence because of Mycroft's need to lash out at him in jealousy.

Sherlock laughed it off, he had never really laughed like that around anyone but then again… _John wasn't just anyone. _He had a beautiful laugh, one with life and happiness. One that took away all the past feelings of being alone; it brought him closure and it brought him the feeling of being _loved, _"John Watson, don't be _degradable_."

John looked offended, "I'm not being degradable Sherlock. That wasn't my intention." John faked a sigh, "But of course, you already _knew _that. Just – behave for one night, that's all I'm asking of you. _One night._"

Sherlock watched the passing lights outside the car window, there were so many colours that they all smashed together into one. Red, blue, green, pink, white and yellow combined and separated as if they were opposite magnets to magnets the same.

_2 different types of poles to 1 type of pole__…_

John adored the way Sherlock would gaze out the window and look like he was just a little boy again glistening at the stars. His eyes were young but had a million years inside of them, his face looked aspired yet disappointed. John never knew how one person could hold so much emotion yet obtains a tendency to try and hide it.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours to John as he watched the beauty fall across Sherlock's curiosity. Sherlock reminded John of a fallen angel who is now looking at the world, questioning it's existence.

"John." Sherlock interrupted John's trail of thought and he could see Sherlock's reflection looking at him with a plain face, "You have been staring at me for a while now. What is it?"

John muttered under his breath and felt his legs turn to jelly, "Deduce me." John kept his voice strong but he knew it was no use.

Sherlock turned to face him this time and fixed his tie while holding a _killer _eyebrow raise. Sherlock squinted his eyebrows just studying John for a while until he made up mind, "No."

John shook his head and dismissed the discussion. He muttered to Sherlock in a neutral tone, "Then don't ask." Sherlock did not argue with John, he could see it wasn't said in a menacing tone so he ignored it.

The rest of the car ride was quite, just consisted of glances and looks towards each other and the outside world as if they were watching on a screen. John watched Sherlock's face as he scanned the outskirts of the restaurant.

"Galvin La Chapelle? Is that where we are dining at?" Sherlock frowned at the restaurant; it wasn't much on the outside, just mainly looked like a lit up brick warehouse but on the inside is the real treat.

"Yes you bloody git, now get out Sherlock." John pulled at Sherlock's hand to get him out of the limousine and Sherlock obediently followed.

There was a small chill from the night sky but John shrugged it off and almost dragged Sherlock into the building. The building was a 100ft-high vaulted ceiling that had brown leather padded chairs and crisp liners, which added to the airy opulence.

A waiter showed the Detective and Doctor to their table. He waited until they were seated before beginning. The man was tall and well built but had a small Italian accent, "May I offer our finest champagne?"

Out of habit, Sherlock deduced everything about the man; _Dandruff on suit – hair regularly dried out, Clean nails, Freshly shaven, wax in hair – combed back, slight bags under eyes – 20 hours sleep this week, grinds teeth – snores. Tan line from old ring – divorced last week – sleep problems from divorce__…_

John cut Sherlock off from his deductions, "Yes. That will be great thank you." Once the waiter left, John eyed the menu in front of him before scowling at Sherlock, "I told you to _behave_ Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and decided to take his boredom away by looking at the menu. There wasn't much on there that he liked but he would enjoy experimenting with some of the side dishes.

The waiter soon came back with champagne and John eyed Sherlock and then turned to he waiter like he didn't just scowl at his date.

"Thank you." John mumbled and he pulled a shit-eating grin at Sherlock for warning.

"Yes, _thank you_." To the waiter, it didn't sound like a mocking tone; but to John, he wasn't deaf to the 'sounds of Sherlock.' He knew Sherlock was mocking him and he really wanted to ring the bastard.

After the waiter left, John shook his head and complained, "Sherlock you git, I just want to have a nice time. Can you just – _please _try and behave. You might like it if you tried."

Sherlock took in a deep breath and nodded, "For you John, I'll try anything."

* * *

><p>After a beautiful dinner of John's '<em>Home cured organic salmon, fennel, avocado &amp; ruby grapefruit' <em>and Sherlock's _'Seared partridge, macerated kumquats, red currant salad & truffle dressing,' _the two boys started to relax and enjoy their table conversation.

"What about her Sherlock." John pointed to a blonde female quietly eating with a redheaded man behind them but not close enough to hear their conversation and sniggers.

Sherlock squinted and his eyes scanned for every little bit of data on the female, "She's cheating on him; they have been married for two years and for 1 of those 2 years, she's been sneaking around with someone who owns a dog. Judging by the hair on her shoulder but none on the male and the markings on the ring. She is well paid, a lawyer judging by what's in her handbag; I can see a small folder with a stamp from the office she works at."

Sherlock tilted his head and watched the waiter come over to the couple. Sherlock was closely watching the waiter address the blonde female and then he pulled a shocked face.

John raised his eyebrows and looked at Sherlock, "What is it Sherlock?"

Sherlock leaned in closely and whispered, "She's cheating on him with the waiter." Sherlock shook his head, "That's just naughty."

John gave a smooth warm laugh and admired the Detective; "You are different when you've had a drink or two. Don't get me wrong, _I like it_."

Sherlock fixed his tie and pulled a suspicious look, "Are you hitting on me John Watson?"

John licked his lips and gave a cheeky look that could kill anyone walking by, "I'm living with you, we do murder cases together, and I'm taking you to dinner. I think I am passed hitting on you Sherlock Holmes."

There came a small ring from Sherlock's pocket. He frowned and took out his phone. The phone was buzzing in his hand, making Sherlock's long, skinning fingers vibrate along with it.

Sherlock winked and took the call, "It's Gavin – uh Lestrade?"

John muttered towards Sherlock, "It's Greg, Sherlock you git."

There were yes' and mutters from Sherlock but John couldn't make out what Lestrade might've been saying to Sherlock. To be honest, John just wanted Sherlock to hang up and ignore his phone for the rest of the night.

Sherlock hung up the phone and then quickly got up from his chair, "There's been a murder. Lestrade wants us to investigate." With the last words being said, Sherlock whipped out the door in a flash.

John stood there looking like an idiot. He grabbed the bill but had already been paid by Mycroft, which John specifically didn't ask for, but he appreciated the gesture.

John came out muttering about Sherlock being an _'insufferable git'_ and saw Sherlock leaning against the limousine, "Did you think I would forget my Doctor?"

John watched Sherlock's blank face curl into a devilish smile, "Depends on how enthused you are about the case."

Sherlock got off the limousine and opened the door, "Join me John. If convenient, get in the car, if inconvenient, do all the same. Could be dangerous."

John remembered that line from Sherlock's text but he rearranged it for the situation they were currently in, "Sherlock, you do know how to make a girl interested." John was smirking and he followed into the limousine.

Sherlock jumped in soon after and he was looking happy but he soon noticed how John was slightly disappointed and drained of energy.

"John? Is something the matter?" Sherlock frowned and watched John try and act at least neutral but was failing.

"Yeah – well not really." John paused looking for the words to say without causing a big deal, "I thought maybe we could just have one night out and be able to relax. After everything we've been through-"

Sherlock's lips slightly parted and he cut John off, "John I'm so sorry. I-I shouldn't have been such a-"

John gave a small smirk but he voice was blank, "An idiot?" John breathlessly let out a smile and turned back to Sherlock's pitying face, "It's perfectly fine Sherlock. I'm not mad, don't worry about me."

Sherlock gave a small fake smile back and silently waited until they had turned up to the crime scene to investigate. It didn't mean that he completely ignored John; he just took a glimpse at him every now and then to check if he was okay.

* * *

><p>It took around 10 minutes due to traffic but in the end they got there swiftly. The limousine passed Anderson and Donovan, leaving the two to basically mouth 'what the-' and they pulled up near Lestrade.<p>

Sherlock was the first to hop out followed by John who just watched the cheery Sherlock clap along and run into the scene.

Lestrade whistled at John and came laughing over, "What's this all about?"

John rolled his eyes, "Alright, alright. You've had your fun. I was out at dinner with Sherlock."

Lestrade eyed his suit and pulled a 'not bad' face, "Nice suit. I saw Sherlock wearing one too. How'd you get him into something like that?"

John proudly grinned and he slightly loosened his tie, "I threatened him. Locked him into the bathroom with only the suit. We came to a compromise; he got to keep his coat." Lestrade sipped his coffee and agreed with John.

Lestrade and John entered the abandoned warehouse in London to see Sherlock having the time of his life.

"Bit of a handful is he?" Lestrade wondered towards John who was smiling at Sherlock.

"More or less. He's not as bad as people think." John knew that to be true because Sherlock saved John in ways he could never repay.

Sherlock came walking over with a pensive expression on his face, "How long has she been dead for?"

Lestrade checked his watch and stumbled at the thought, "Not long I guess. There was a call straight after her murder but no witnesses. We got here pretty quick, the roads were quiet, we didn't see a car or person leave here."

Sherlock frowned and scanned his brain for clues. John looked at Lestrade then to Sherlock, then to Lestrade again and finally back to Sherlock, "What is it?"

Sherlock pulled that I've-got-something face and grabbed John, "The killer must've phoned in telling us about the murder but due to the speed of the police and no leaving cars or pedestrians – oh that's brilliant!" Sherlock nudged at John's sleeve and quickly flashed like a traffic light at Lestrade, "The killer is still here, he hasn't left."

Lestrade pulled out his phone to text the Yard and not long after; there was a loud yelling noise and a dark hooded figure running away. Lestrade yelled for everyone to get in the cars and follow but Sherlock decided to go on foot with John.

"Let's go John!" Sherlock yanked at John's sleeve one more time and John started to run beside him.

The game was on and Sherlock was soon following the hooded figure without seeing a single police car in sight.

"Where in the bloody gods name are they?" John muttered at Sherlock as he was running beside him.

Sherlock growled back, "This is why I chose on foot John." Sherlock and John followed the figure up stairs and jumped across roofs to try and catch this man.

John's heart was beating with the impulse of the adrenaline rushing through his blood. The wind was on his face and bits of mist was catching on, wetting his hair.

The killer was quick and good at keeping a fast pace. He was swerving past coming on cars, and for the first time in what felt like hours, a police car flew by and turned a corner to catch onto the killer. Sherlock never gave up; he kept on running to catch this man.

John's bullet-wounded shoulder started to slightly hurt but John kept soldiering on. Sherlock however was watching the killer's decisions.

There was a large fence jump and the killer did not stop to think about the fence. He climbed up the large fence and jumped the rest. Sherlock and John followed not long after.

The game continued until after a long run, flashes of light came in and had surrounded the runaway killer.

"Oh, so that's where they are." John huffed in the cold misty air.

Sherlock turned and smiled widely, "You're exhausted? It wasn't much."

John growled and put his hands on his hips, "These aren't exactly my _running _shoes Sherlock. For god's sakes-"

Sherlock cut John off, "Ah, perfect timing Lestrade; if I say so myself."

Lestrade smiled widely and got to do the honors of arresting the criminal and shoving him in the back of a police car.

"Well done Sherlock. We couldn't have done this without you." Lestrade was cheery and more awake from this chase.

Sherlock muttered towards the 'not so breathless anymore' John, "Of course you couldn't have."

John gave a small laugh and Sherlock frowned, "I'm sorry John for ruining our date."

John gave a small smile but he clicked his tongue, "Don't apologize, it's fine. Although I did have plans for us."

Sherlock looked at John and became more interested, "Do tell these plans John."

John rocked back and forth slightly on his feet, "You know, breaking and entering places." John sucked in a long breath, "But you know what Sherlock?"

The Consulting Detective squinted and loosened his tie, "What John?"

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist and enjoyed the flashing lights in the distance, "_I wouldn't have it any other way._"


End file.
